


Souls Made of Dreams

by masulevin



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Grey Wardens, Letters, Main Character has Anxiety Problems, Minor Cullen Rutherford/Female Hawke, Minor Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Modern Girl in Thedas, Nonsense, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Spoilers for Last Flight, weisshaupt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 12:45:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9182380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masulevin/pseuds/masulevin
Summary: When Kate wakes up in the world of her favorite video game with no memory of how she got there, she's torn between drowning herself at the tavern or helping the Inquisition succeed. So she does both.My take on the MGIT thing with some soulmarks sprinkled in. Just for fun.





	1. Lonely is a lifetime of getting used to being alone

**Author's Note:**

> Immutable, as the substance of the earth,  
> With souls made of dream and idea, hope and fear,  
> Endless possibilities.  
> Threnodies 5:6

The pain is… unexpected. Dreams don’t usually hurt, at least not physically. She can count on one hand the number of times she’s been scared enough in a dream to be propelled into wakefulness with a pounding heart, but this feels different.

Maybe because she doesn’t know where she is, or because the moment she sat up a man ran from the room, leaving her alone and freezing. She doesn’t even have a blanket on the bed–no, the cot?–and there’s a big fireplace but it’s empty.

She shivers, but the door opens before she can do more than swing her legs over to rest her feet on the floor.

She looks up, startled, then almost laughs when someone dressed as Leliana from Dragon Age walks into the room. Her smile falls from her face as the Leliana-person sits on a chair across from her and braces her elbows on her knees.

“What’s your name?”

It sounds more like a command than a question, so she doesn’t hesitate even a moment before answering. “Kate.”

“Kate.” The woman is French, or at least is pretending to have an Orlesian accent to fit her cosplay, and her voice makes Kate shiver. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I don’t, uh…” she pauses, closing her eyes to think. “Before waking up in here? I was driving home from school.”

There’s a little silence from the Leliana-person and Kate opens her eyes to stare at her. Her red eyebrows are drawn together as she thoughtfully studies Kate. “Driving home from school,” she repeats. “Driving a carriage?”

Kate narrows her eyes and glances away before deciding to play along. “Yes. From my university.”

“And where is that? You don’t sound Fereldan or Orlesian, and certainly not Tevene. Are you Viddathari? From Orzammar, perhaps?”

The bubble of hysterical laughter grows in her chest, and she can barely keep it from bursting. “None of the above. Do I look like a dwarf to you?”

Leliana narrows her eyes. “You _are_ taller than a dwarf, but you could be half-human.”

The laughter can’t be held back any longer and Kate covers her face with her hands as she dissolves into helpless giggles. “H-half human. Sure, okay.” She snorts and her laughter grows louder in response, and she misses the soft sigh her antics pull from Leliana.

“You do not remember falling from a rift? Or being carried here unconscious?”

Kate looks up finally and wipes at her watering eyes. Laughter still bubbles from her throat occasionally, but she does her best to dampen it so she can answer the questions. “Like I said, all I remember is driving home from sc… from my university. It was pretty late; maybe I had an accident?” She shrugs her shoulders. “Am I… do I have to stay here? Or can I go home?”

“Perhaps if you tell us where ‘home’ is.” Leliana’s words are reasonable, but her voice holds a bite that makes Kate narrow her eyes and her laughter die in her throat. This is quickly becoming not funny.

“Atlanta.”

Leliana raises her eyebrows. “Atlanta,” she repeats slowly, testing the unfamiliar word. “Where is that?”

Kate rubs her knuckles across her forehead. “It’s in the…”  she starts, then stops and makes something up. “It’s north. Of here.”

Leliana nods. “Of course.” She stands, and Kate does too. Leliana is taller than she is, by several inches, and Kate is suddenly convinced that she might be half dwarf after all. “I’ll have someone take you to your room. You should rest before you return to Atlanta.”

“Hmm.” Leliana pushes the door to the room open without turning her eyes away from Kate and lets the younger woman walk forward.

There’s a soldier on the other side of the door and Kate follows him, eyeing the sage green of his uniform. How much money got poured into this prank? Where did she fall asleep that someone was able to do this to her? It isn’t funny.

She stamps down the panic that’s replaced the laughter in her chest, but it flows through her anyway, making sweat stand out on her skin even as she shivers. She bites her tongue, almost hard enough to draw blood. This is not the time for a panic attack. She isn’t trapped anywhere; in fact, she’s walking to the outside–

The soldier pushes a door open and they step out onto a high walkway. There’s an expanse of cold blue sky overhead and a large stone castle in front of her. She freezes, one foot still inside, as her mouth drops open.

It’s bigger than she would have expected, but it’s definitely Skyhold. She can see Inquisition banners hanging from the walls, hear the sound of metal against metal as soldiers practice sword fighting somewhere nearby, smell the smoke of a dozen campfires.

Her panic has a new place to focus now, and she can’t help but reach back to the soldier for support. He looks down at her with wide eyes but lets her cling to his arm for a moment as she adjusts. It doesn’t make sense.

It doesn’t make sense.

“My lady?” the soldier ventures, uncertainty making his voice reach a higher pitch than usual, but it does the trick. She turns to look up at him and drops his arm, freeing him to lead her through the keep.

Each step makes her head spin, and it feels like she’s floating above herself, watching herself dream. That must be it. It’s the only explanation. Maybe she’s in a coma and this is her dream? Is this the kind of thing that happens? She was in a car accident and she’s in Grady or somewhere and having a weird coma dream.

They walk through the main hall, and Kate has to bite her tongue again to stop from laughing when she sees Varric sitting by one of the fireplaces. He glances up when she passes by, and she raises her hand in a half-wave that he returns with a smile.

They go up a flight of stairs and back outside before finding a row of rooms that look out onto Skyhold’s gardens. The soldier leads her to the last room in the row and opens the door for her. Her room is small, with a little fireplace opposite the door, the only furniture a bed and a dresser.

A dress is laid out on the bed, and Kate eyes it critically. “Am I supposed to wear that?” she demands, looking up at the soldier who still looks as though he’d rather be anywhere else.

He shrugs. “If you’d like, my lady.”

“Hmm. Thanks, I guess.” She barely looks over as the soldier bows, and as soon as she’s alone she locks herself in the room and sits on the bed next to the dress. She gazes at it, then looks down at her own clothes: jeans, boots, and a black sweater. She’d been wearing a peacoat and a knitted scarf when she got into her car; where had the rest of her things gone? She didn’t have her computer or textbook, her purse with her phone, her car keys, even.

Uncertain what to do to the point of obedience, she strips down to her bra and panties and wipes herself off with the basin of cold water waiting for her on the dresser. She opens each of the drawers, finding other items she might need: socks, underwear, a bar of soap that just _smells_ too harsh for her skin, slippers, a comb, a folded piece of knitted fabric that might be a shawl. She pulls the dress on, growling at the laces until she manages to tie them in what might be the correct way, combs out her hair, braids it quickly down her back, and wraps the shawl around her shoulders.

She puts her boots back on and then hesitates. What is she supposed to do? Leliana–she giggles a little just thinking the name, another hysterical giggle that’s still more welcome than the wave of panic she’d been fighting–she’s hungry, though, and surely somewhere around here there’s something to eat.

In the game, there’s the tavern, and people are always eating in the great hall. She doesn’t have any money, but maybe if she finds someone she recognizes and asks politely?

She squares her shoulders, tightens the shawl around herself, and leaves her new room. She trails around the gardens into the keep, avoiding looking at Varric as she scurries down into the courtyard. She can’t see anyone following her, but she’s certain Leliana wouldn’t just give her free run of the keep.

The thought makes her shoulders hunch and she hides more in her shawl as she shuffles down the courtyard steps. Just like in the game, the Herald’s Rest is directly across the upper courtyard and she makes a beeline for it. It’s warm on the inside, and she immediately peels off the shawl and folds it over her arm, but then she doesn’t know what to do.

It’s much more crowded than she thought it would be. It’s loud too, the press of bodies moving her forward and around as she tries to avoid getting stepped on. She ends up in one corner, back against the wall and eyes wide as the scent of Ferelden washes over her.

She has enough time to think “it really does smell like wet dog” before the tears well up in her eyes and she can’t see anything anymore.

“Oh, hey now.” A large hand descends to her shoulder and someone presses a mug of something into her hands. She sniffs at it experimentally before drinking the wine. It’s not anything she’s used to drinking, and her instinct is to spit it back out, but she swallows hard and quickly downs the glass.

Someone guides her into a chair and refills her glass. Her shawl disappears from her arm and reappears wrapped around her back. When she finally wipes her eyes and looks around, the hysteria starts to crawl back up her throat and she downs the wine in one gulp.

“Oh, dear,” says a sickeningly familiar voice from next to her. “I wouldn’t have carried you all the way back here if I thought you were going to drink all of my wine.”

She turns bleary eyes to see Dorian reclining next to her, one arm around the back of her chair, his other hand clutching a wine bottle. Despite his complaint, he reaches over and fills her cup up again. She watches the dark liquid pour out and her lips twist down at the corners.

“You carried me back?” she finally ventures, staring at her fingers. The pink paint is nearly chipped completely away, forgotten between working and driving to school. She wonders if there’s nail polish in Thedas and whether it’s safe to use.

Dorian sniffs. “Well, not myself, of course,” he answers. “Bull carried you.”

“Bull,” she repeats, voice hollow. “The Iron Bull?”

“That’s me!” The same voice that calmed her earlier speaks from across the table and she looks up at him with eyes wide. He’s so much bigger than he seemed in the game, and if they were standing next to each other he’d definitely tower at least two feet over her slight frame. “Holding up okay?”

She narrows her eyes at him and doesn’t answer, looking at the way his horns jut at right angles from his skull. There’s no way that’s comfortable.

Dorian and Bull glance at each other, sharing a thought, and Kate sinks lower in her seat.

“Did you see me?” she suddenly asks, cutting off whatever further question Bull might want to ask. “Leliana said I fell out of a rift.”

A brief silence falls at the table as Dorian and Bull exchange another glance, which Kate ignores, hunkering down into her shawl and trying to remember the last time she ate and whether or not it’s safe to drink another glass of wine.

She takes another sip anyway.

“We were there, yes.” This from Dorian again, apparently having decided he’s the best suited for pulling information out of her.

She sinks further down on the chair, stretching her legs out under the table. “What did it look like?”

Another silence follows, this time broken by Bull. “It was dark. Only one moon that we could see. There was a large fire behind you that you were crawling away from, and you just… fell out.”

“I fell out?”

“You were screaming about an accident and then you fell unconscious. Dorian healed you and we brought you back here.” Bull leans forward slightly, resting his elbow on the table. It creaks under his weight but he doesn’t move, and Kate just blinks up at him with bleary eyes.

“An accident,” she repeats, trying to piece together the last of her memories. She must have wrecked her car. Maybe she ran off one of the bridges on I-75, wrecked her little car. That would explain the flames. And the memory loss. “Shit.”

Bull raises his eyebrows. “The boss and I have a bet on where you’re from,” he starts, pulling Kate’s attention back to him. “I thought you might be from Par Vollen, but Cadash thinks you’re from Orzammar or one of the surfacer clans.”

Kate blinks slowly, then frowns. “Why does everyone think I’m a dwarf?” she complains, sitting up straight and squaring her shoulders. “I’m a perfectly normal height.”

This earns her a single raised eyebrow from Dorian, who also smirks into his own cup of wine. She sighs.

“Okay. _Fine_. I’m not a dwarf, though. Just a small human. And not a Viddathari, either, so you both lose. Actually,” she perks up a little, leaning forward and mimicking Bull’s posture. “I think I win, so whatever you bet should be mine.”

Dorian chuckles as Bull shrugs, reaching into a pocket of his voluminous pants to pull out a few coins. He passes them across the table to her, and she stares at them skeptically. She has no idea how money works here, and she doesn’t have any pockets in the dress Leliana provided for her, but she scoops the coins up anyway.

She’ll figure it out later. When she’s slept. And is sober.

“So–” she starts, then stops as a commotion ripples through the tavern. She sits up straighter, trying to see over everyone’s heads, but sways slightly as she moves. She steadies herself with both hands on the table and pushes herself up, suddenly convinced that whoever is coming is important.

Her movement draws the attention of the approaching man, and he turns to look at her. His auburn hair is a little fluffy at the front, a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheekbones, and he grins at her in a confused, lopsided way. She sits down hard and buries her face in her hands.

“Is that who I think it is?”

Bull turns to look even as Dorian says, “The Warden? He’s a guest of the Inquisitor’s.”

“Name’s Alistair.” This is a new voice, a new accent, more British–no Fereldan–and Kate drags her hands down her face until she can see Alistair over her fingers. He’s standing with a mildly confused expression on his face, a mug of ale in his hand, casually leaning on the back of Bull’s chair.

Kate whines. “Fuck me.”

Alistair splutters, and Bull tips his head back to laugh. Dorian arches both of his eyebrows and slides Kate’s wine away from her. “Perhaps you’ve had enough,” he suggests, and she turns her glare to him.

“That’s not what I meant,” she snaps. “I have a husband. I just–” she gives up and buries her face on her folded arms. A hand pats her back but swiftly retreats. “This is a fucking mess. I have to talk to the advisors.”

“I’m sure whatever you have to share with them can wait until you’re sober,” Dorian suggests. “You should drink some water.”

Kate sits up again, too fast, and the room spins around her. She closes her eyes against the motion and waits a moment before she speaks again. “I don’t think I can drink your water. I’ll get cholera, or dysentery, or… or something.”

“Cholera?” Alistair asks, but Bull’s already nodding.

“The flux,” he says. “Happens sometimes when you travel to a new place. If you boil the water it should take care of it, if you’re particularly worried.” She blinks at him, grateful but suddenly unable to articulate why. “You probably don’t want to eat anything either.” She shakes her head, and he nods again. “I’ll take care of it. Find something safe for you. I’ll have a word with the girls in the kitchen–” he sends her a lascivious grin and she finds herself smiling back, “–and have them bring it to you.”

She nods and stands, bracing herself against the table until the room spins. She really shouldn’t have had anything to drink before eating. Dorian is at her side in an instant, one strong arm around her waist, and she relaxes against him.

“This is ridiculous,” she mutters as he leads her through the tavern away from the exquisitely confused Alistair. “I’m just driving along, minding my own business, then the next thing I know I’m in fucking Dragon Age.”

Dorian glances down at her as they move through the tavern doors into the courtyard. The sun has set since she was inside, but she has no idea what time it is. “It wasn’t the Dragon Age where you came from? What did they call it, then?”

Kate can’t answer and just dissolves into giggles. Dorian rolls his eyes and helps her up towards the guest quarters, following her lead as she points the way. Her laughter continues as they make their way through Skyhold, and as soon as she’s in her room she staggers away from him. Someone’s come through and stoked the fire for her, and the whole room is toasty warm.

She yanks at her laces with irritation, tangling them further before Dorian steps in to help her with a heavy sigh.

She blinks up at him and can’t help but blurt out, “Have you ever even undressed a girl before?”

Dorian’s eyebrows lift but he doesn’t look up from his task. “I haven’t had the pleasure.”

Kate hums her acknowledgment and closes her eyes to let him work. “Too bad Krem wasn’t down there. He’s so…” she trails off, looking for the right adjective. Finally, she settles on “perfect” and earns another delicate snort from the mage undressing her.

“I thought you’re married.”

She opens one eye to see that he’s finished with his task and is walking back towards the door. “This is all imaginary. So I guess it doesn’t matter what I do, really. Or who.” This brings up another round of giggles from her–drunken, this time, not hysterical, and she turns away from Dorian as she slips out of her dress. She climbs into her bed without looking back at him, snuggling under the blankets.

“Thanks for helping,” she mutters sleepily. “If I’m still here tomorrow I’ll thank you properly. Like an adult.”

“Like an–” Dorian starts, then he stops as the rest of her sentence starts to make sense. “Why wouldn’t you be here tomorrow?”

She shrugs under the blankets but doesn’t turn to look at him. “If I wake up back home,” is her only answer, but it doesn’t seem to make much sense to him. He frowns down at her and waits for an explanation, but none comes.

Just as he’s turning to leave, a maid is pushing into the room through the still-open door. She hesitates when she sees Dorian, but he just takes the tray away from her and sets it on the dresser where Kate will see it in the morning.

When he makes it back down to the courtyard, Bull is waiting for him. “She say anything else?”

Dorian shakes his head. “She believes this is a dream, I think. I’m not sure why.”

Bull nods and looks towards the guest rooms, as though he’ll be able to see her from where he’s standing. Dorian turns and looks too even though he’s sure it’s impossible. When he turns back, Bull is smiling crookedly at him.

“Leliana’s going to be interested in this, kadan,” he says. “We should go talk to her before we take the rest of the night to ourselves.” He wraps his arm around Dorian’s waist and pulls the mage against him.

Dorian’s face heats but he raises his chin and sniffs lightly at the attention. “Very well. Lead the way, you lummox.”


	2. The morning's on its way, you know it's only just a dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate has a long discussion with the War Council, learns about soulmarks, and shows off her earth-tattoos.

When Kate finally wakes up late in the morning, she has to accept that she’s in Skyhold all over again. She squeezes her eyes shut against the bright light streaming in through the small window and buries her face in the pillow. Dimly she wonders what it’s made of or how many other people have rested their heas here, but she can’t bring herself to care about that yet.

First, she has to cry. No matter what the reason she’s in Thedas, coma, death, freak accident, madness, she’s here and she’s stuck and she doesn’t know what to do.

She used to read about this, stories where normal girls were dropped into Thedas. They always had a purpose: Andraste brought them to save Skyhold, they were a spirit trapped like Cole, they were a scientist who fell through by accident. They were never students who had a car accident and a crippling fear of eating something contaminated.

When she’s wallowed as long as her aching head will allow, she slides out of bed and pulls yesterday’s dress back on. She laces it lazily, throws her shawl on to cover it, and braids her hair before daring to look in the room’s little mirror.

There’s a tray of food and a glass of water waiting for her. She eyes the water suspiciously, but forces herself to drink the whole glass. She leaves the food untouched and digs around in the room’s drawers until she finds something to clean her teeth with. It isn’t exactly Colgate, but it will hopefully keep any cavities from taking root until she can make it back home.

Outside, Skyhold is buzzing with activity. Kate hesitates on the walkway outside her room, gazing down at the keep. If she forgets where she is or how she got there, it’s actually quite a beautiful view. She can see herbs growing wildly out of pots in the garden below her, apparently unimpressed with the game’s normal one-herb-at-a-time rule. Flowering shrubs and even a few fruit trees fill the rest of the garden, creating a winding path that leads to the different exits and a little gazebo off to one side.

That’s the gazebo where Cullen and Dorian play chess, if she remembers correctly. She perks up a little at that, squinting down as though that might help her see more clearly.

It doesn’t look like anyone’s in the gardens, except for someone wearing a Chantry robe. Mother Giselle? Morrigan isn’t there either, and there’s no sign of Keiran, but whether that’s because the Inquisition hasn’t gone to the Winter Palace yet or because they don’t actually spend all of their time in the garden is hard to say.

Kate shakes her head and forces herself to begin moving again. She follows familiar paths that only feel strange thanks to the change in perspective, walking down into the main hall and then up to the library. She skirts around Dorian, avoiding his gaze, heading straight up to the top level of the rookery.

Leliana is there, as she hoped, and the spymaster looks up as soon as Kate appears at the top of the stairs. Leliana raises her eyebrows and rolls her shoulders, leaning back in her seat. Kate shifts her weight from one foot to the other, taking a fortifying breath before speaking.

“I need to talk to you.”

—

The War Room is bigger than she expected it to be. A large table stands in the center of it, holding maps and stacks of books, fresh paper, and quills. The advisors stand across from her, all staring at her with varying degrees of mistrust. The Inquisitor–Erlea Cadash, the star of Kate’s last Inquisition playthrough–is at Kate’s side, a look of wide-eyed wonder on her face.

Once you’ve seen the inside of the Fade, it’s easier to believe other people’s ridiculous stories.

Kate has her hands propped on her hips, staring resolutely at the table to avoid everyone else’s gaze. They’ve been peppering her with questions for what feels like hours and all she wants to do is climb back into her bed and never wake up again.

Lightheadedness plagues her, a result of refusing to eat all day and only drinking the tea Josephine practically forced down her throat.

More than anything, though, she wants to get away from Cullen’s piercing stare. The game didn’t prepare her for how handsome he would be, or how intimidatingly large he would feel standing near her. She feels like she knows too many of his secrets, and she’s afraid to look him in the eyes.

“So you just… play through everything that’s happening to us as a game?” Cadash asks, mimicking Kate’s posture. Her accent is the same as Kate’s, and it makes her smile to hear something so familiar.

The expression quickly drops off her face as she looks up to meet the Inquisitor’s eyes. “It’s… yeah. It’s like a story but you get to play around with the different possible choices.”

“What are all the choices?” This from Josephine, who sets her quill down in its holder and watches her with a bright, curious expression.

Kate takes a deep breath, considering. “You start with the Inquisitor. Race, class, gender. Stuff like that.”

“And?”

“Oh. Well. What you are changes parts of the game. If the Inquisitor is an elf, there are different…um, people react to you differently than if you’re a human.” Kate shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other, face heating up and the curious looks she’s getting.

Cadash raises one eyebrow. “And if you’re a dwarf?”

Kate nods and rakes her knuckles across her forehead. “More. Um. Stuff about underworld connections?” She phrases it like a question, nervous at the stereotyped answer, but Cadash just tilts her head back and laughs.

It’s a beautiful sound, deep and echoing around the War Room. Kate finds herself smiling again, relaxing into the topic.

“So you know who my mate is?” The challenge comes with a smile, but Kate’s stomach squirms at the change of subject.

“Your…mate?” When Cadash nods, Kate narrows her eyes at the phrasing, but… “My guess would be Sera.”

Cadash’s mouth drops open at that, and Josephine gasps delicately. Leliana just smiles–she already knew–and Cullen doesn’t let himself relax.

Kate shrugs. “I mean it could have been whoever, I don’t know. It was an…educated guess.”

Josephine perks up at that. “This…game, as you call it, has a romance component?” Kate nods, dread already building at the next question. “Can you court whoever you want in the game?” Rose shakes her head and Josephine looks thoughtful. “Who did you romance when you played, then? Sera as well?”

Kate clenches her jaw and fights to keep the blush from building in her cheeks. She fails. “I played this game a lot. Uhh over and over, basically. So I romanced every possible option. Except, uhh…” she trails off, remembering Josephine’s romance with Blackwall and unwilling to say his name in case it already started. “Well basically all the options.”

“Who are the options, though?” Cadash asks, and even Leliana looks interested in this question. For a moment she looks like the optimistic woman from the Blight and Kate’s heart clenches.

The sound of armor shifting sounds from across the table and all eyes turn to Cullen. He has a frown on his face, a little wrinkle between his eyebrows. “I don’t think this is what we should be focusing on right now,” he points out, briefly meeting Kate’s eyes before turning back to the Inquisitor. “Perhaps you’d like to continue this discussion later, over tea perhaps, but we have more pressing matters.”

“What do you have in mind, Cullen?” Cadash asks gently, not at all ruffled by Cullen’s attitude. Kate bites her lower lip, pulling it into her mouth, waiting to see what Cullen has to say. She wonders, briefly, if his withdrawals are as bad or even worse than they’re shown in the game. A sick feeling settles in the pit of her stomach as her typical worry for him begins to amplify.

Cullen clenches his jaw for a moment. “We still don’t understand how she got here or who sent her,” he points out, quite reasonably. “Is she spying for anyone?”

Everyone turns to Leliana for the answers. “She isn’t spying for someone as far as I’ve been able to discover. I wouldn’t have suggested we meet in the war room if I thought she were, Commander. As far as I can tell, she truly did drop out of a rift and into our laps. Perhaps Andraste sent her to us as she sent us Cadash. To guide us in our time of need.”

Kate’s smile is forced, awkward, but no one acknowledges it. Cullen just nods, content enough for now with Leliana’s explanation, though he still glances askance at Kate when she isn’t looking.

“Listen, I want to help,” she says, holding her hands out in a gesture she hopes is common enough for I mean you no harm. “I wasn’t a doctor or anything back home, but I was a…a scholar. I could help Dorian do research; I know he’s working on discovering more about Corypheus. I’d also love to research red lyrium or, or the calling for the Wardens! Or even help Helisma with the creature research? We have completely different animals where I come from, but I’ll study about anything. Honestly.”

The advisors exchange glances before ultimately turning to Cadash. Leliana inclined her head, slightly, indicating her approval, and Cadash turns to Kate. “Of course, we would welcome your help, with the additional assurance that you’ll be available to speak with if we have more questions for you.”

Kate grins, a real one finally, and shrugs. “I’m not going anywhere. Unless another rift swallows me up, at least.” Her grin slips as she considers the big unknown: how had she ended up in Thedas in the first place? What had the car accident done to her?

And a bigger, more personal question: did her family know what happened to her? Were they worried? Did they miss her? Would her husband properly take care of their pets?

Josephine daintily clears her throat, pulling Kate’s attention out of the downward spiral it’s suddenly trapped in. “I believe the commander has another meeting to attend just now, but if you’d like to come to my office we can have some more tea and talk about your story just us girls.” She winks at Cullen, who flushes lightly but doesn’t argue.

Kate turns to him with her lips parted, ready to say something, anything, but her words fail her and she snaps her jaw shut. Cadash pulls on her, tucking one hand into the crook of her elbow to lead her back down the hall to Josephine’s office. Standing elbow to elbow, Kate and Cadash really are nearly the same height, and Kate sighs softly as she lets herself be led.

Half-human indeed.

The little group stops by Josephine’s fire as she dispatches a few servants to bring up a meal and extra chairs. Cullen slips by them a moment later, and Kate lets herself trace his path with her eyes as he strides through. His back is straight, his steps sure, and only the wrinkle between his eyebrows and her hours playing the game lets her know that he’s still bothered by something.

When the servants bring two extra plush chairs to rest by the fire, Kate crawls into one and uses her shawl as a blanket to drape over her feet. The second servant reappears with a tray of tea and snacks, quickly serving all of them. Kate accepts her tea and a small cookie, eyeing it suspiciously for a moment before she starts to nibble on it.

“So.” Cadash starts first, putting her teacup down and leaning in with her elbow on the arm of her chair. Kate freezes with her cookie halfway to her mouth and looks over with wide eyes. “Who do you romance when you play the game? Is Sera an option?”

The blush is back and Kate sighs heavily. “She is. Female Inquisitors only, of course.”

Josephine’s eyes light up, though she tries to school her expression. “Is… is Blackwall an option?”

Kate nods.

Leliana presses her lips together as she considers her question. “Josephine and Cullen are, as well. That’s why you’re embarrassed.”

Josephine’s eyes go wide and glassy, and Kate nods even as her face grows hotter. The ambassador speaks first, “Leliana isn’t?” When Kate shakes her head, Josephine makes a sad clucking noise and turns to her friend, reaching out to pat Leliana’s hand. She earns an eyeroll in response.

“She was, um,” Kate pauses. She can feel her blush creeping down her neck and up to her ears. This was a mistake. She shouldn’t have mentioned the romances. “There’s another… story that covers the events of the fifth Blight. Leliana could be romanced then, by the Hero of Ferelden.”

Leliana narrows her eyes. “You had Tabris romance me?”

Kate sighs softly and shrugs. “I mean, again, I played these games a lot. I loved them.” She rubs her hands over her arms, smoothing away the goosebumps. “I tried to explore all the options available.”

“Was there an option that allowed Tabris to live?”

The friendly atmosphere disappears immediately, replaced by simmering anger from Leliana. She leans forward, resting one armored elbow on her knee, and Kate leans back to get away from her as she swallows hard.

“Well… yes.” She has to take a deep breath. “It was a ritual. Blood magic.”

Leliana’s face relaxes only slightly. “Tabris wouldn’t have wanted to do that.”

Kate nods, glad what little she remembers from her Tabris playthrough was correct. Tabris was good, pure as a city elf could be, her only anger directed at the darkspawn and at the Denerim nobles. She had turned down Morrigan’s ritual and saved Alistair’s life herself.

She also hadn’t made him the king, letting him continue to serve the Wardens as he wished, leading to the problem that led Kate to Leliana’s desk in the first place

“I’m so sorry.”

Leliana’s eyes are shining with tears she refuses to shed, but she nods in return before burying her face in her tea. Josephine reaches over and smoothes her hand over Leliana’s back, and Kate looks away from the display of friendship, the ache back in her chest.

Cadash is watching them too, and looks away at the same time. “This isn’t strange for you? Being with all of us?”

Kate’s laugh comes out as a loud bark. “I’m still not sure it’s happening. It feels like a fever dream.” Cadash raises her eyebrows, and Kate stumbles on. “I have dreams about C– about all of this,” she waves her hand in a general way, indicating all of Thedas, “sometimes, but never this clearly. Or this for this long.”

She rests her head against the side of the chair and sighs. Explaining about who she was and how she landed in Thedas took a level of honesty that she wasn’t used to, and trying to be as helpful as possible without ruining everything was emotionally exhausting. Trying to explain who she romanced and why and how is proving to be somehow worse.

The fear that someone might overhear and warn Cullen about the depth of her obsession with his character… no.

Just the thought makes her cover her face with her hands.

This isn’t the kind of thing she’s good at. Leading people, giving advice, advice that could literally change the world… she isn’t even the one who chooses the movies on Friday nights. She just can’t.

“Kate,” Josephine’s gentle voice pulls Kate’s attention back to the room and the people around her. “Are you well?”

Kate blinks at Josephine for a moment, then nods as the question registers. “Yeah. It’s just a lot. Can I–where do you take baths, here?”

Cadash hops up, stretching out stiff muscles. “I’ll take you; come on.”

Kate climbs out of her chair and smiles at Josephine and Leliana, but they’ve already put their heads together for another whispered conversation. Kate dimly recognizes it as Spanish–they must be speaking Antivan, of course Leliana speaks it–but she follows Cadash obediently.

There’s a bathhouse, apparently left out of the game, on one of the lower levels of the keep. It drains out into the valley beyond with the rest of the keep’s sewage, following a waterfall down far enough that it makes Kate dizzy to look down into it.

Cadash shows her how to work the levers to pull water from the cisterns and use the runes to heat it to a comfortable temperature. The magic stones fascinate her, and she sits right on the floor of the bathhouse and turns them on and off again until Cadash finally loses her patience and snaps her fingers to get Kate’s attention.

They strip down and slide into separate tubs. Kate lets out a loud groan as the hot water covers her, and she sinks down until just her eyes are still above the water. The tub is deep and she floats gently, the scented oils Cadash added making it feel… well, like home.

Cadash finishes first, climbing out of the water and facing away from Kate to dry herself off. Kate peeks over the edge of the tub to see Cadash wrapping a towel around herself, facing away, a script tattoo looping under her shoulder blade.

“Wait, so how long have you and Sera been seeing each other exactly?” Kate pushes over to the edge of the tub and props her elbows on the side, looking up at Cadash expectantly.

The dwarf turns around and starts using another towel to dry off her long auburn hair. “A few weeks,” she says. “Not long after we met in Orlais.”

“Oh, okay.” Kate pauses, trying to come up with a non-judgmental way of asking: “I was just wondering because I saw her name on your back.”

Cadash freezes at that and cocks her head to the side, halfway done braiding her hair into a plait for it to dry. “Tatt–oh, you mean the soulmark.”

“Soulmark,” Kate echoes, narrowing her eyes just a bit. “What’s that?”

“You don’t–” Cadash starts, then pauses. “You don’t have soulmarks where you’re from? On Earth?” When Kate shakes her head, Cadash sighs heavily and resumes braiding her hair. “They’re marks with the name of the person you’re meant to be with. They usually appear at birth or in childhood. Some people have more than one, some people don’t have one at all. If the other person dies or something else happens, their name just… disappears.” She pauses again, her face clouding. “There are a lot of people who lost their soulmarks in the Blight, then again since the Conclave.”

Kate moves to the other side of her tub and reaches for a fresh towel, climbing out and drying off before pulling her clothes back on.

“You really don’t have soulmarks?” Kate shakes her head again, thoughtfully, and Cadash purses her lips. “How do you know who you’re supposed to be with, then?”

Kate’s laugh is sharp, surprising Cadash who pauses in redressing. “You don’t. You just find someone and hope they’re the right person.” She touches the silver band on her left ring finger with her thumb. “And if they’re not, well. You just start over.”

“Sounds rough. Is that a bee?”

Kate lets her dress fall to her ankles and spins around, eyes wide, searching the air around her for a bee. Cadash smothers a laugh and takes a step closer. “No, no. On your leg.”

“Oh!” Kate pulls up her skirts high enough to show off the tattoo on her right thigh. It’s a pink flower, petals wide open, two bumblebees sitting on the center. Cadash lifts one hand reaches out as though to touch the colorful pigment, but pulls her hand back at the last moment. “Yeah. I have a beehive at home that I keep.”

“You keep bees!” Cadash’s eyes grow impossibly wider at that. “Sera’s going to love this.” She bites her lip, holding back a question for just a moment before letting it go. “So you don’t have soulmarks but you have this.”

“Well. Yeah? You don’t?”

Cadash shakes her head and stands upright. “We have tattoos, of course. The closest thing would be the Dalish vallaslin, but even they’re not usually this… complex. Or colorful. It looks like a painting.”

Kate shifts her hands around to expose her other thigh instead, showing her other tattoo: two silver griffons displayed, surrounded by the words everyone in Thedas associates with griffons.

“In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice.” Cadash looks up at her again, meeting her eyes. “The Wardens.”

Kate grins, a little lopsided thing, and lets her skirt fall again. “Yeah. Well. I’m not a Warden, obviously, since they don’t have the Blight where I came from. You and I are going to need to talk about them before too much longer.”

Cadash nods and briefly matches Kate’s expression before turning away. “Come with me to tell Sera about those bees of yours, and then I’ll introduce you to the librarian.”

Kate follows along, steps feeling light.


	3. Ignorance is torture, but your love is right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate’s off drinking again, and Alistair finds her precariously sitting on Skyhold’s battlements. He helps her to safety, and she rewards him with a dose of too-much honesty.

She’s drunk again. Not quite as drunk as her first night in Skyhold. Just tipsy enough that the dark cloud of panic is farther away, everything around her a pleasant haze that makes it feel more imaginary and _safer_.

It’s probably an unhealthy coping mechanism and she’ll regret falling into this pattern.

It’s much easier to eat their undefinable stew and talk to strangers when she’s a little drunk, though. And it’s easier to pretend she doesn’t know who Sera is and how she grew up, how Krem came to be with the Chargers and how Bull lost his eye, what happened to drive Dorian from Minrathous, the battles and disasters that are just on the horizon…

She lifts the bottle of wine to her lips and drinks deeply. She leans her head back to swallow and gazes up at the sky, at the twin moons that are so foreign to her, and sighs heavily.

This isn’t home.

Not that home was all that great. But it was safer, or it felt safer without literal demons walking around, rising corpses, and a darkspawn magister trying to kill everyone she knows. Solas is an entirely different problem, one that she’s been steadfastly ignoring in the second floor of the library.

She tries to take another swig from her bottle but it’s empty. Grunting in displeasure, she leans forward and drops the bottle over the edge of Skyhold’s outer wall. She watches it tumble through the open air until it disappears into the darkness below. It’s too far for her to see.

“That sure is a long way down,” a new voice points out, and Kate swivels from where she’s sitting between the crenelations to see the intruder. Alistair stands a safe distance behind her, arms crossed over his chest, one reddish eyebrow arched as he studies her.

His words make their way through the alcohol clouding her brain until she grins in reply. She turns back and leans forward, looking toward the ground. “How far _is_ it, do you think?” A hand tangles in the back of her dress as Alistair yanks her backwards. Her feet dangle above the floor for a moment before he sets her down gently.

She sways on her feet and one hand shoots out to grab at his breastplate. Her fingers wrap around one of the leather straps holding it to his body, tugging slightly to hold herself steady. He grabs her elbow to help, waiting until she grins and steps away, releasing him.

“Is this a habit of yours?” Alistair asks, narrowing his eyes and Kate walks back to the wall. She doesn’t climb up to sit this time, just leans against it with her elbows on the highest part. Alistair follows her, mimicking her posture, and waits for her answer.

Kate presses her lips together as she considers. “It wasn’t before, but it’s certainly becoming one now.” She glances over at him before pillowing her face on her arms. “Don’t worry. I won’t jump. I don’t like falling.”

Silence follows as Alistair considers this bit of information. “That’s less comforting than I think you meant it.”

She shrugs a little but doesn’t look up. “Everything’s just so different here,” she mutters. “I miss my home.”

“Where _are_ you from?” Alistair asks, curiosity overcoming his reluctance to broach an unknown subject. He shifts against the wall, making himself more comfortable as he waits for her to speak. He certainly isn’t going to leave her alone after the way he found her; even if she claims she won’t jump, she might very well fall over the edge by accident.

“Nowhere _you’ve_ ever heard of.” Her reply, when it finally comes, is muffled and vague. Alistair frowns as he waits for her to explain. “They didn’t tell you?”

“I just thought you were a new mage working with the Grand Enchanter. Why would they tell me anything?”

Kate sits up at that, frowning at him even as her head swims. “Because you’re–” she stops and sighs, raking the fingers of one hand down her face. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. I fell through a rift to get here. I think I…” She hesitates and swallows hard against the tears that suddenly spring to her eyes. Alistair takes a half step closer to her, but she continues before he can reach out a hand in comfort. “Anyway. I don’t really understand why I’m here, except that, where I come from we have these games… stories, really… that tell the story of Thedas. There’s one about the Inquisition,” she waves one hand vaguely, gesturing at all of Skyhold, “there’s one about Hawke and everything that happened in Kirkwall, and there’s one about… about the Blight.”

Alistair’s eyebrows draw together, and Kate licks her lips as she takes the opportunity to unabashedly stare at his face. _Origins_ was the closest to getting his look right, but it disguised his size, made him seem smaller, and his skin is certainly a darker shade than it appeared in Inquisition. Her obsession with him storms to the front of her mind and she turns away before he can read her expression.

“There’s a story about the Blight?” She nods, not turning to look at him before he asks his next question. “So you know all about Tabris.”

“Mmm. And her companions.” She finally looks back at Alistair, unshed tears glimmering in her eyes. “I know she gave herself to save your life, even though it meant leaving Leliana behind.”

Alistair’s jaw works hard, the muscles clenching and unclenching. Kate watches the movement in his cheek. “She could have made me the king, you know,” he says, finally, turning to face Skyhold’s courtyard.

“You would have hated it.”

“Yes.”

Silence falls between them again, neither looking at the other. Kate rests her head on her arms again, sagging against the stones. She tries to remember the fastest way back to her room, but the layout of Skyhold is growing fuzzier by the second.

“My lady? Kate?” She turns slightly to peer at him with one eye. A high spot of color is on his cheeks, his eyes not quite looking at her. She sits up more fully, though still leaning against the wall, to hear whatever he’s holding back. “You know everything about us? About… about me?”

“Do you have a question? I don’t know everything. Just enough to try drinking myself to death.” Alistair turns to look at her, frowning, and she blushes as she looks away. “Sorry. That’s selfish.”

“Do you know my mother? Who she is?” Kate hesitates, but nods once at him. “Is she… did Eamon tell me the truth about her?” After another hesitation, Kate shakes her head. “I didn’t think so. Is she still alive? Is she safe?”

Kate rubs her hand over her face, pulling at her lower lip with her fingers as she thinks. “She’s… yes. She’s fine.”

Alistair’s smile is heartbreaking, a wide grin stretching across his face. Kate watches his lips before turning her eyes to look at the moons now high overhead and sighs even as he asks, “Do you know her? Do _I_ know her? Does she know about me?”

“I don’t think I can tell you that.” Kate’s words cut Alistair’s questions off, but she still doesn’t look at him. “I… I’ll think about it, okay? Some secrets aren’t mine.”

When she meets his eyes again, he’s nodding slowly, even if his smile has fallen away. “I understand.”

She reaches toward him as though to put her hand on his arm, but thinks better of it and crosses her arms tight against her chest. “I’m going to need more alcohol if people are going to start asking me questions about this.”

Alistair arches his eyebrows at her words. “Is that a good idea?”

She looks at him askance and huffs petulantly. “I already told you I’m not going to jump.”

“Mmm.” Alistair narrows his eyes at her, studying the way her shoulders are starting to hunch, her body folding on itself. She turns her face away from him, looking back toward where the Herald’s Rest waits for more customers, light and music spilling out of its open door. He bites the inside of his lip, hesitating, doubts about how truthful she’s being playing through his mind. When she glances over her shoulder at him, he can see the tears pooling in her eyes, and it breaks his resolve.

“Let me escort you to the Rest, my lady,” he says, holding out one elbow for her. She squints at it like she’s unused to the gesture but tucks her hand into the crook of his arm and leans against him as she takes wobbly steps down the stairs towards the tavern.

Inside, it’s as loud and busy as it was her first night, and Alistair helps her wind through the crowd toward the bar. Before they make it halfway across the room, however, Dorian is at her other side extending a hand to her. She reaches out and takes it, dragging Alistair behind her at the abrupt change of course. He follows obediently, joining her and Dorian at a table already filled with the Iron Bull and several of the Chargers.

“There’s our little spirit,” Bull greets, pouring a shot out of one of the bottles resting on the table in front of him and sliding the little glass across to her. She squints at the nickname but takes the liquor and downs it easily. “Make a new friend?”

She glances down the table to where Alistair’s settled, accepting his own drink from Krem. “Apparently.” Her eyes flit back to Bull, raking over his chest, before she turns to squint at Dorian. He reaches across the table for one of the bottles of wine, and the movement pushes his leather vambrace down his arm slightly, exposing the edge of a dark “Th.”

Kate slaps Dorian’s chest in her excitement, making him cry out in alarm even as he turns to give her his attention. “You have one of those tattoos too!” She touches his vambrace with light fingers, lips moving soundlessly as she fights to remember the word Cadash taught her. “Soulmark. Who’s it say? When did you get it?”

“Ah,” Dorian hedges, resuming his reach for the wine. He refills his glass and then stretches his long legs under the table, draping one arm over the back of Kate’s chair as she stares at him, enraptured. “That’s not something to be discussed in polite company, my dear,” he points out, voice lowering until she’s the only one who can hear. “You never know what the story is behind them.”

“Oh.” She wrinkles her nose, briefly embarrassed at having crossed a social line she didn’t realize was there. “Is that true everywhere or is that a Tevinter thing? How do you know when you find the person your mark matches if you aren’t allowed to talk about it?”

Dorian gazes at her over his wine glass as she runs through her questions, waiting for her to run herself down. When she settles, eyes losing their focus as she delves into thought, he takes a deep breath to draw her attention back to him, but Bull’s booming voice interrupts him.

“Vints are weird about them what with all of the arranged marriage shit they go through. They don’t usually have ‘em. Qunari almost never do.”

Kate’s eyes light up and she leans forward, propping her elbows up on the tabletop until Bull pours her another shot. “You have one, though,” she says, and it isn’t a question. Her smile grows wider as she watches Bull’s momentary surprise, and she throws back her shot. “Wish we had those where I came from. Sure would make things a whole lot easier.”

“No one has soulmarks?” This comment comes from Alistair, leaning in around Dorian to make his question heard.

Kate turns to him and blinks hard to clear her vision. “It’s probably harder when there are seven billion people in the world.”

Silence falls over the table as each man sitting there tries to comprehend such a large number. Kate loses interest in the topic quickly, brain already moving on to new ideas as she eyes Dorian’s hands resting on the table.

“Dorian.” She turns completely in her chair to face him, and he narrows her eyes at her. “Do some magic for me.”

One dark eyebrow lifts at her order. “Magic?”

“ _Yes_.” Her enthusiasm is only tempered by the alcohol swirling in her system, slurring her words slightly. “Listen, I don’t remember the rift, so I haven’t seen any magic since I got here. Just do something little? Please?”

He grins, chuckling, and holds out his right hand toward her, palm up. She stares at it with rapt attention as a little flame appears, like one you might see on a candle, dancing as he powers it.

Kate’s mouth drops open and she lifts one finger to poke at the flame, but Dorian’s fingers snap closed before she can.

“Don’t touch the fire, little spirit,” he says, echoing Bull’s pet name from earlier. “That’s how you get burned.”

She twists her lip up in a snarl at his words, turning to look at her hand instead. She holds both hands together, palms facing her, and narrows her eyes. She focuses her entire body on producing a flame like Dorian did, tongue poking out between her lips.

Nothing happens.

“Well that’s bullshit.”  She crosses her arms on the table and rests her head on them. “Everyone else gets some sort of power when they come to Thedas. They can actually see the future or they’re actually a spirit or whatever. Me? Nothing.”

She closes her eyes and misses the look that Bull and Dorian exchange.

“Are there more like you here?” Dorian asks, voice gentle.

She shrugs as well as she can in her position. “Doubtful. Those were just stories, but I thought all of you were just a story too.”

Her eyes pop open and she immediately meets Alistair’s gaze from down the table. He’s watching her closely, eyebrows pinched together. It isn’t the first time that night that her eyes fill with tears when she looks at him, but she ignores the way the thought makes her cheeks heat.

It takes her a moment to force the words out of her mouth, but when she speaks the entire table falls deathly quiet.

“I don’t want you to die.”


	4. Falling in deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate has some important conversations and learns some interesting things.

“You know the Warden who’s here to help the Inquisitor?” Kate glances up from under her eyelashes, watching the way Fiona’s carefully constructed mask glides back into place, and grins.

“Warden Blackwall?” Fiona asks, playing as innocent as possible, and Kate fights the urge to smirk or roll her eyes.

That wouldn’t be fair.

“No.” Kate lowers her voice, knowing Fiona will be able to hear her regardless. “Warden Alistair. We spoke last night. He wanted to know what information I had about his mother.” Fiona makes a noncommittal noise, and Kate presses on. “I told him she’s still alive, as he suspected, and that she’s safe. He wanted to know her name, but I said some secrets aren’t mine to share.”

Fiona turns a page in her book. “Wise.”

“Mmm. I thought as much.” Kate hesitates, uncertain about speaking so plainly to someone older than her, but she remembers Alistair’s hopeful face and pushes forward. “I just… don’t want you to regret not saying anything. If something happens to him.”

Fiona looks up at her sharply, and Kate fights to keep her expression neutral. After a long moment, during which Kate shifts uncomfortably in her chair, Fiona just nods curtly. “I will consider it.”

Kate smiles in relief, but Fiona doesn’t match her expression. The mage slips her notes into the book she was reading and shuts it, standing and pulling the book along with her. She leaves without explanation, moving around the curve of the library wall until Kate can’t see her anymore. Guilt twists in Kate’s stomach, but she ignores it. This could be a good thing.

At the very least, she’s done what she can while still respecting everyone involved. Fiona knows her son wants to get to know her, and Alistair knows his mother is safe even if she can’t be with him.

Kate continues working alone, pushing herself to read through the books as fast as she can. The quill she’s writing with makes her notes blotchy and spotted with ink, but the more she writes, the better her notes look. She probably should have pushed for those calligraphy lessons she wanted as a kid. The skill would come in handy.

“You should take a break.” Kate jumps at the new voice, looking up with wide eyes to see Dorian leaning on the closest bookshelf, casually brushing a hand over the leather that makes up his Skyhold armor.

Now that she’s finally sober to see him, Kate takes a moment to drink in his appearance. He’s certainly handsome, glossy black hair and warm brown skin, a little beauty mark under his right eye. He practically oozes confidence, and Kate finds herself smiling when he meets her gaze.

“You’ll go blind reading like that all day. Come.” He offers his arm to her, and she rises to obey. She tucks her hand into the crook of his elbow and lets him lead her down the library stairs into the rotunda, despite her hesitation to see Solas, and out through the main hall onto the main steps.

She squints as they enter the bright sunlight, shading her eyes with her free hand. They’re heading straight for a practice ring set up in front of the armory, and she has to smother a gasp when she sees Cullen and a soldier she doesn’t recognize fighting with training swords.

Shirtless.

“Oh, would you look at that,” Dorian murmurs. “What fortunate timing.”

Kate arches her eyebrows and speeds up their little walk down the stairs. “Yeah, okay. Fortunate indeed.”

When they make it to the training ring, they have to elbow their way through the crowd to be able to see. It’s easy for Kate; she just lets go of Dorian and slips through the cracks between the onlookers until she can lean her elbows against the fence. No one minds because they can mostly look right over her head, and Dorian follows her to stand directly behind her.

She sighs softly and doesn’t even bother to hide her appreciative expression at the sight of the two glistening men showing off their muscles in the middle of the day. If this is a regular occurrence, she’ll have to start taking her lunch down here instead of ensconced in her library alcove.

Cullen is as handsome as she expected him to be, muscles rippling under a light sheen of sweat. Scars cross his torso and arms, and Kate takes no small delight in the sprinkling of golden hairs across his chest and stomach. A tattoo--no, a soulmark?--follows the curve of his ribs, and Kate leans forward to see it better. Dorian’s hand on her shoulder pulls her back so that her face is out of the ring, and she glances back at him in thanks.

The crowd shifts around her as some people leave and new people join to watch the fight as it finishes. Dorian moves to stand next to her, and a tall woman in light armor leans against the fence on Kate’s other side. The activity distracts the soldier; Kate sees the way his eyes leave Cullen and flit over the crowd, and she shakes her head at his mistake.

As she expected, Cullen takes advantage of the soldier’s momentary distraction to knock him off of his feet. The soldier lands flat on his back in a cloud of dust, and Cullen holds his sword to his throat. It would be a killing blow, and the soldier drops his own weapon as he resigns.

The two men stay like that for a moment, chests heaving with exertion, and Kate sighs softly.

The tall woman next to her glances down. “That’s quite the sight,” she says, and Kate grunts in approval before she finally looks up to see who’s talking to her.

When she does, her mouth drops open at the sight of a dark scar crossing the woman’s nose and cheek.

Hawke.

She snaps her gaze closed and turns away, looking wide-eyed at the training ring but not really seeing. Cullen helps the soldier up and they walk to opposite sides of the ring to gather their shirts. Cullen walks close to where Kate, Hawke, and Dorian are standing silently, and Hawke’s stifled gasp jerks Kate out of her shock.

She glances up at Hawke’s face, the sudden paleness making her scar look more red, and then follows her gaze to Cullen’s chest. This close, his soulmark is plain as he wipes his face with a towel, oblivious to the attention he’s receiving.

Amelia.

Kate looks back up at Hawke, then over at Dorian who has a wide-eyed, gleeful expression on his face, before finally turning her attention back to the commander.

He grabs his shirt and pulls it over his head before he sees the three of them staring at him with varying expressions of surprise or horror and freezes. His eyes meet Hawke’s, but before he can move again, she turns on her heel and stalks away. He drops his shirt over his stomach and rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes.

Kate elbows Dorian in the side to pull his attention down to her. “Is that Hawke’s first name?”

He just nods at her and slings his arm over her shoulders to steer her away. Cullen turns to the other gathered troops and starts to explain what he wants them to do, and Kate willingly follows Dorian as he pulls her toward the kitchens.

“You know Alistair’s going to die but you don’t know the Champion of Kirkwall?”

Kate bristles at Dorian’s words, despite their kind intentions. “I recognized her, doesn’t that count?” A breath, then, “I don’t know that he’s going to die. I know that he might.”

“We all ‘might’ die, my dear,” Dorian points out. “Alistair’s the only one you were drinking yourself to death over.”

He pushes her into the kitchen and hands her a loaf of bread as he tucks a bottle of wine under his arm. The serving girls giggle up at him, but don’t try and stop his blatant theft. They emerge into the main hall and cross to climb up to their floor of the library, Kate following Dorian into his alcove rather than going right to hers.

When they settle, splitting the bread and the wine, Kate tucks her feet under her in her chair and says, “I’m not drinking myself to death.” She takes a light sip of the wine despite her words, and tries not to grimace at the taste. Dryer than she likes.

Dorian raises his eyebrows. “No?”

“No. It’s just hard to deal with. Everything’s different here.” She takes another sip of the wine and this time shudders at the taste. “Thank you for sharing, but I can’t drink this.” She passes the cup back to him and stands. His mouth is starting to open like he might ask her something, but she pushes past him. “I have to get back to work. There’s a bit of a time limit on my research.”

“Of course, of course.” Dorian waves his hand in farewell, and Kate rubs her forehead as she moves past Fiona and Helisma to her own table.

Alistair is waiting in her guest chair, squinting at the book she’d been reading before Dorian took her away. Kate hesitates, just out of his sight, and takes several deep breaths to work up her courage to speak to him again. After her display last night, she was certain he’d seek her out again for answers.

It isn’t like it’s easy to avoid people in Skyhold. And if he leaves, he isn’t safe.

With that thought twisting in her chest, she steps past him to sit in her chair. An afghan is folded over one of its arms, and she pulls it into her lap before acknowledging Alistair’s presence.

When she looks at him, he shuts the book and slides it back across the table to her. It’s a treatise on the first Blight, looking at theories on the origin of the Taint. It isn’t very scientific, but it’s all she has.

“I’m going to die.”

Kate puts both her hands on the book’s cover, smoothing over the binding. She takes a deep breath, thinks of a lie, then decides to tell the truth. “I don’t know. You might. It’s a possibility.”

Alistair nods and hangs his head. “Is it the Calling? Is it real?”

“No.” She bites her lip, hesitates. It’s harder to talk to him when she’s sober. “I don’t think so. Not yet.”

“So it’s a battle.”

“Yes.” Close enough, at least.

Alistair looks up at her, his brown eyes damp, but his jaw set. “In death, sacrifice.”

Kate reaches across the table for him, and he just looks at her outstretched hand. “Yes. But I won’t let you if I can help it.” She wiggles her fingers and he places his hand in hers.

As her fingers curl around his, a static shock flies between their skin and she hisses at the pain. Alistair’s eyes go wide, but she shakes it off and grabs his hand in both of hers.

“Listen to me. If I can protect you, I will. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Alistair’s expression has completely changed from wary acceptance to… something else, something Kate can’t quite identify. Hope, maybe? He’s been hearing the Calling for months, certainly. He gave up on getting his life back. On even having a life after this.

She squeezes his fingers. “I’m working on the Calling. I’m working on stopping anything that might happen to you. Okay?”

Another moment of silence passes between them before Alistair nods and a little grin breaks out on his face. Kate looks down at where she’s still clutching his hands, blushes, and pulls away. She reaches down into a little basket beside her chair and pulls out a fresh quill and a stack of papers.

“If you want to help, write down everything you know about Joining, please.” She pushes the stack into his hands and opens her own book, ignoring the way Alistair continues staring at her for several seconds.

It must be hard to sit across from someone who has seen your death.


	5. Dark doo wop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn more about Kate's past and get a glimpse into her future.

Alistair doesn’t know what to do. He obeys Kate’s request, writing down everything he learned about the Joining since… well, since his Joining, including the recipe, which was what she wanted.

She takes the paper and flashes him the widest, brightest smile he’s seen since on her face since he first met her, drunk and upset, in the tavern, and he forgets what else he should say. She thanks him, squinting down at his handwriting as she pushes one of her books away.

He hovers for another minute as she reads, the feather of her quill gently tickling her chin as she thinks. If she has questions, he can answer them, or that’s what he’ll say if anyone asks.

When it becomes obvious she no longer needs him, he excuses himself to wander Skyhold. He finds himself at the training ring, watching a couple of recruits sparring each other. When one finally disarms the other, the loser tosses a coin up in the air for the winner to catch, and they leave the ring together.

It seems to be some sort of tradition because the morning disappears quickly in the same way, soldiers and scouts and even some of the Chargers taking turns inside the ring.

Someone appears by Alistair’s side, pressing training weapons into his hands. He looks over, mouth slightly agape, to find Hawke grinning at him. She has a greatsword in her own hands and she doesn’t even wait for him to answer her before moving to take her place on the opposite side of the ring.

He joins her, rolling out his shoulders. It’s been a while since he’s been able to practice with someone, so he’s happy to help Hawke work out… whatever it is that’s bothering her. She wouldn’t ask him otherwise. It’s the one thing he’s always known about her, ever since they ran into each other in Kirkwall.

She doesn’t wait for him to say he’s ready, either. She just swings the sword and steps toward him, forcing him into a defensive position immediately.

Oh, she’s angry.

\---

“Are you ready for our afternoon walk?”

Kate looks up to see Dorian at her desk,  _ again _ , a little smirk half-hidden under his mustache. She looks down at her notes, the scribbles and arrows and notes in the margins that were all starting to bleed together, and just nods. She doesn’t even bother to stack or arrange her things, just leaves them behind as Dorian escorts her down the stairs.

“Is this a habit of yours?” she asks, shading her eyes as they walk into the afternoon sun. “Ogling sweaty men?”

Dorian laughs loudly, drawing attention from a few of the people surrounding them. “Quite,” he replies. “Are you complaining?”

“Oh, no. It’s nice to find someone who shares my interests.” She grins up at him as he winks, and they finish descending the stairs.

Really, she’s grateful for Dorian’s peskiness. If it wasn’t for him, she’d forget to eat lunch and spend all day reading. It’s everything she enjoyed doing back home with the helpful addition of a salary for doing so and the absence of a somewhat dismissive--

“Is that Hawke?”

Kate snaps back to the present at Dorian’s words, thumb twisting the gold band around her finger. Hawke is, in fact, one of the two people in the ring. Her hair has fallen out of its knot, streaming behind her in a white-gold stream as she spins a greatsword around.

The warrior has lost her jacket at some point during the fight, exposing muscular arms that flex as she fights. Kate swallows hard as she watches, blushing, and looks away to see who Hawke is sparring with.

Alistair stands before her, sweat pouring down his face as he withstands Hawke’s attacks. The warriors dance around each other, feet moving seamlessly in patterns drilled into them since childhood. 

It's incredibly impressive.

And, Kate admits to herself as she stands a little straighter and presses her thighs together, somehow even more arousing than yesterday’s display was. She blushes hotly in the sun and turns away just in time to see Cullen walking across the battlements toward the nearest set of stairs.

She watches him instead of the fight, observing the way he tracks Hawke’s movements with his eyes, barely sparing a glance for her opponent or anyone else standing around him. A little scowl twists his lips as he stares, concentrating hard enough to make a little wrinkle appear between his eyebrows. 

When Hawke finally disarms Alistair, much to the delight of the small crowd, she reaches out an arm to help him up. She claps his shoulder and whispers something Kate can’t hear, and he laughs. He turns to return his practice tools but freezes when he sees her, just long enough to make her cheeks heat again, before resuming his course.

Beside her, Dorian clucks his tongue. “Look like our favorite Warden’s noticed you.” Kate opens her mouth to protest, or at least ask why Alistair is his favorite Warden to change the topic, but Dorian’s already watching Cullen take a few hesitant steps toward Hawke. “Oh, would you look at that.”

She does, watching the way Hawke takes a step back before squaring her shoulders and standing her ground. Her hands on her hips, she listens to whatever Cullen has to say before shaking her head once, decisively, and stepping away. Cullen’s face falls before he remembers himself enough to school his expression.

“I wish I knew what that’s about,” Kate mutters. “I hate that I’m here and I just have no idea what’s going on ninety percent of the time.” 

Dorian pats her hand where it’s still linked with his arm. “You’re figuring it out, little spirit. Shall I take you back to your hole or are you done working for the day?”

She squints up at him. “It’s the middle of the afternoon. I don’t think any of us should be ‘done working’ at this hour.”

He just shrugs. “You can’t spend your nights drinking yourself into a stupor and your days reading books indoors for the rest of your life. It isn’t healthy.” When she doesn’t respond, just looking away, he tries again, more gently, “I know you miss your home, your husband, but--”

“I don’t.” Her interruption is short, quiet, more of a confession than anything else, but it still makes him stop short.

“You… don’t?”

She doesn’t have to look back at him to understand his confusion. She can hear it in his voice, in the hesitation of his question. She squares her shoulders and wills herself not to cry, not in public. “I don’t miss my home. I miss… my pets, mostly. And the food. Pasta. Not my home, not really. I certainly won’t miss having to pay back student loans.”

Dorian takes a moment to process her words, pushing away his first question  _ student loans?  _ for another, more pressing one, “But not your husband.”

Kate clears her throat. “No.”

A pause, then, “Was he cruel to you?”

She shrugs a little and clears her throat again. “Not at all. He just… we just didn’t get along. We were talking about getting a divorce. And I guess now we won’t have to. They’ll think I’m dead, and he’ll get my life insurance money and we’ll both be better off.”

Dorian turns away from the sparring ring as a couple of the Chargers take their places to fight. He leads her back up the steps, moving slowly as he considers. So much of what she says doesn’t make sense, either cryptic information about the future or unintelligible words about her world… 

He settles for what he hopes is the simplest question. “What is pasta? Is that your… pet?”

She giggles, and he relaxes slightly at the sound. He’d been afraid she would start crying, but the smile she shoots up at him shows no hint of tears. “It’s food. And it’s delicious.”

“Could you make it? I’d love to try some.”

Kate considers. “Maybe? Am I allowed to just use the kitchen?”

Dorian grins as they reach her table in the library. “I’ll speak to the Inquisitor for you. I am certain it will be fine.”

\---

Kate slips into the kitchen after the evening meal has been cleaned and the morning meal has been prepped, feeling distinctly like she shouldn’t be there. No one stops her, and Cadash gave her the go-ahead to make this mysterious pasta dish that apparently no one’s had before.

It’s so simple that surely some country in Thedas has been making pasta for ages, but evidently not Tevinter, Ferelden, or wherever Cadash grew up.

She gathers her ingredients and quickly brings together pasta dough, wishing desperately for a roller like she’d be able to use at home. By the time she’s rolled out a quarter of the dough to the correct thickness, her arms are aching from the unusual motion, and she’s wishing she never promised Dorian and Cadash they could try it when she’s finished.

Flour coats everything, including handprints all over her dress, on her face, and in her hair, but she continues, mouth already watering for a taste of the tortellini she’s preparing, a taste of home that she’s missed.

She sets a pot of water to boil and starts stuffing the little round pieces of dough with cheese, folding them clumsily until she gets the hang of it. The movements are soothing, and she finds herself relaxing. This isn’t so very different than how it was back home, even though she told Dorian she doesn’t miss it.

She doesn’t miss most things, even most people. She isn’t even homesick--she’s never  _ been  _ homesick--but the familiar act of cooking for a little group of friends makes her smile.

The water starts to boil and she puts a few of the tortellini into the water, the words of one of her favorite songs bubbling to her lips.

“This world is gonna burn, burn burn burn, as long as we're going down… baby you should stick around…” She hums for a moment, remembering the next set of lyrics, moving through the kitchen with a little swing in her step to boil more of the pasta, stirring the water as she starts up again. “It's all gone to shit, it's out of our hands, Babe if you could know, you would hatch a plan, that's my, that's my man…”

The sound of the kitchen door swinging open startles her, and she drops the spoon she was using with a cry. Alistair’s sheepish face appears in the frame, a little grin apologizing for startling her.

She sags slightly, pressing a hand to her rapidly beating heart, and bends to scoop up the spoon. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, slipping farther into the room. “The Bull said you were down here cooking. Thought I’d investigate.”

She quirks an eyebrow at him but doesn’t press about why he was asking after her in the tavern. He probably expected to find her drunk again.

“I told Dorian I missed pasta, so he suggested I make some for myself. I’m supposed to share with him and Cad--the Inquisitor when it’s finished.”

Alistair eyes the pasta in the pot on the stove and then what’s waiting to be cooked on the counter. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” he says finally. “You have a lovely voice.”

Kate laughs in surprise and disbelief. “You’re only saying that because you don’t know what that song is supposed to sound like,” she says, barely glancing at him. “I wasn’t even singing the right words. It’s ‘all gonna shift,’ not ‘all gone to shit,’ but I like my version better.”

“Mmm. It certainly fits.”

She laughs again, more of a giggle. “Yeah.” She pops a piece of pasta into her mouth with her fingers, closing her eyes as the familiar taste bursts over her tongue. It tastes like home, and her eyes start to water before she can stop herself. She swallows and clears her throat, opening her eyes to see Alistair watching her with his head cocked to the side. She blushes lightly and offers the bowl of food to him. “Want to try?”

He does, biting down with the confidence of someone unafraid of anything offered to eat. His eyes light up and he reaches for another before she has time to pull the bowl back.

She laughs again. “I’m glad you like it, but leave some for the Inquisitor, please.” He grins at her, relaxing, as she starts to clean up behind herself. “Did you… need me for something?”

She’s not looking right at him, so she misses the slight shake of her head and the little frown that passes over his face. “I… just wanted to check on you.”

“Oh!” She pauses in what she’s doing, turning around to stare at him. SHe has to suppress a shiver when their eyes meet, and her face heats up again. “Thank you. I’m fine, really.” Her eyes dance away from him as she gathers her pasta onto a tray. “Do you want to come with me and eat with us? There’s plenty.”

Alistair hesitates, opening his mouth and closing it once before finally shaking his head. “Hawke’s waiting for me. I should… I should get back.” A little wrinkle appears between his eyebrows as he looks like he wants to say something else, but Kate’s already nodding at him in understanding.

“Of course,” she mutters. “Duh. I-- I’ll see you tomorrow? When do you have to go to the Western Approach?”

He looks startled for a moment before he remembers that she knows more of what’s going on in Thedas than she should. “Two more days.”

“Okay.” She nods, almost to herself. “Okay, good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He stands and holds the kitchen door open for her as she passes through, following familiar steps from the kitchen up to the Inquisitor’s quarters. He watches her walk away with a little frown, concern marring his face.

He needs to tell her.


	6. I'll share this secret for a chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kate learns something about herself that we've all been suspecting.

Kate carries the pasta up to the Inquisitor’s quarters, trying to distract herself from the fact that Alistair had sought her out when she wasn’t in the tavern. Had he... missed her? She hasn’t exactly given him reason to trust that she’ll be okay from minute to minute, so he must have just been worried.

She pushes that line of thought out of her mind and knocks on Cadash’s door, loudly so the sound will travel up the stairs. A muffled invitation floats down to her, and she pushes through to climb the last flight of stairs.

Cadash and Sera are both there, lounging together on the couch in front of the fire. Dorian is stretched out on one of the plush armchairs, wine glass in hand, and he lifts his drink in greetings as Kate finally appears at the top of the stairs.

“You’re all flour-y,” Sera points out, stretching her shoulders out but not standing even when Cadash slips out from under her her legs to take the food. 

Kate glances down at herself once her hands are free and tries to brush the flour from her dress, but it’s a hopeless cause. She sighs and shrugs, turning to sink into the chair across from Dorian.

“Wait, here.” Cadash interrupts Kate, who freezes. The dwarf puts the food down and turns, crossing the room to a chest tucked against one wall. She grabs a bundle of fabric and shakes it out, exposing a human-sized tunic that would cover Cadash down to her knees and Kate down to at least mid-thigh. She tosses it across the room, and Kate catches it easily. “You can wear this.”

She jerks her head at a privacy screen set up in one corner of her room, the one farthest away from the balcony windows and the stairs, and Kate obediently slips behind it. She strips out of her dirty dress, leaving it in a crumpled pile on the floor, and pulls the tunic over her head.

Like she suspected, the tunic nearly reaches her knees. It’s long enough to be considered a dress back home, though Thedas seems to have different opinions on modesty and women’s fashions. The collar is a little too wide, too, but she leaves it open in favor of being comfortable.

When she steps back out from behind the privacy screen, her three companions are already makings short work of her food. She elbows her way between Dorian and Sera, sinking to her knees before the low table to get some to eat before it all disappeared.

Silence reigns as they eat, little noises of pleasure the only sound filling the room. Kate grins despite herself, giving over to the enjoyment that always comes from eating any sort of pasta dish, reclining against the foot of the armchair behind her as the too-full feeling follows and she wants to fall asleep.

Dorian passes her a glass of wine, a sweet one this time, and she takes it gratefully. The stretching motion to reach across the table shifts the loose tunic collar, exposing part of her left shoulder. When she sits back to drink, the fabric settles around her upper arm, and she reaches over to tug it back up.

Before she can cover herself again, a strong hand reaches out and grabs at the shirt, tugging it in the opposite direction. She turns with a glare, trying to pull away, but Sera’s grip is too strong. 

“Lookit!” Sera cries, pulling Kate forward as she turns to expose Kate’s shoulder to Cadash. “You were right.”

Cadash stands and leans over the other two women as Dorian moves to look as well. Cadash and Dorian exchange pleased grins as Kate’s eyes slowly narrow. She twists to see what they’re staring at, but the motion makes her neck muscles twinge unpleasantly.

She settles for scowling up at the three companions and demanding, “What?” in her most serious tone of voice.

They exchange glances again, only stoking Kate’s irritation.

Finally, it’s Dorian who speaks. He’s spent the most time with her, their looks said, so he should be the one to break the news. “You don’t know?” he asks, voice gentler than usual, earning himself a frown.

“Would you just spit it out, please?” Kate demands, patience worn thin already.

Dorian reaches for her hand and pulls her to her feet, pushing her through the room back to the privacy screen. She’d changed quickly before, ignoring the mirror propped up in the corner, not wanting to see what four days in Thedas without makeup and access to her hair straightener made of her.

But Dorian isn’t shy about it now, pointing her at the mirror with his hands on her shoulders before turning her around. He tugs at the collar of her tunic, pulling it down the way it moved before. 

“Look.”

His voice is quiet, still gentle, and he steps back so she can see.

Her heart sinks and her breath still as her eyes trace over the neatly printed name on the skin of her shoulder.

_ Alistair. _

It’s there, clear as the freckles surrounding it, even backwards as it is in the mirror. His name is permanently etched into her skin, marking her as his, binding them together.

Her head swims as she blinks hard, reeling in the implications of such a soulmark. She belongs in Thedas, truly. She wouldn’t have a name on her if she could just leave, walk through another rift and wake up in a hospital bed back home.

She reaches up and touches his name with two fingers. It doesn’t feel quite the same as her other tattoos, with their slightly different texture. It feels just like her skin, like it’s a part of her body.

When she turns back to look at Dorian, his gray eyes are soft around the edges, waiting for her to speak. Cadash and Sera are still whispering to each other on the other side of the room, not interrupting what could be a private moment.

Kate takes a deep breath, looking down at the dirty dress still in a lump on the floor, then back up at Dorian. She opens her mouth to say something, anything, about this new development, the most recent in a series of life-changing events that have happened this week, but snaps her jaw shut and shakes her head instead.

She scoops up her dress and pushes past him, a little unsteadily. She stalls in front of the Inquisitor, ignoring how high on Sera’s thigh her hand is resting.

Her eyes burn and turn red at the rims, but she shakes her dress out and holds it up for Cadash to see. 

“Will you please tell me how I order new clothes?” she asks, voice eerily devoid of emotion. “I just have the one dress, and it seems like I’m going to be here for a while.”


	7. Some strangers are meant to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes finally talk.

Alistair gives in to the temptation to track Kate down the next morning. He slept poorly, what little time he spent in the Fade plagued by the Call of the taint, and all he wants to do is see one of the few people in Skyhold who seems to understand what he’s going through.

That he woke up five days ago with her name printed on his chest where before had just been scarred skin is… Alistair sighs heavily and pauses on the library stairs to rub at his eyes. It’s a curious fact, first getting your soulmark at thirty-one. He thought at first his soulmate had just been born, and that thought was worse than not having a soulmate at all. 

It wasn’t until Kate took his hand in the library that he knew, that he  _ really  _ knew it was her. She said she didn’t have soulmarks where she came from, but now she’s in Thedas. She belongs here, now, with him. Does she know it? Has she realized it yet?

She said she was married before. She had a husband and a family, pets, a life that he can’t comprehend. Maybe if he asks her about it, she’ll talk about herself instead of staring at him with those sad eyes that say she knows so much that he doesn’t.

She isn’t in her little nook at her desk, and a quick scan of the library doesn’t turn her up either. The mage Fiona is at her usual place, but she turns away from him before he can get her attention to ask after Kate. He frowns at that but walks around until he finds the Tevinter mage who always seems to have Kate hanging off of his arm.

Dorian is in his armchair, a thick tome in his hand printed in words Alistair can’t read, but he glances up when he hears the Warden approaching.

“Ah!” he says, peering at Alistair over the top of his book. “If it isn’t our favorite Warden. Looking for your researcher?”

Alistair’s face darkens at the insinuation, his fingers itching to touch the mark under his armor, but he pushes through the awkwardness to speak. “I am indeed. Have you, ah. Have you seen her this morning?”

Dorian takes a moment to smooth his mustache as though he has to think about it. “Not yet, I’m afraid.” He glances toward her desk as though he’ll be able to see through the wall and check on her.

“She’s usually here by now, isn’t she?” Alistair asks, trying and failing to keep the worry out of his voice. If Kate just appeared in Thedas without warning, perhaps she can disappear the same way.

“Perhaps she…” Dorian hesitates,  tripping over his words in a way not at all like him as he remembers the expressionless way she finished her wine and then disappeared from the Inquisitor’s chamber, still wearing that ridiculously oversized tunic. He amends his statement before he finishes it, not wanting to upset Alistair further  _ or  _ give away anything Kate might want to keep private. “She may have just had too much to drink and is recovering in bed.”

Alistair narrows his eyes, thoughtful, apparently not completely convinced. Something pricks at the back of his mind, similar to but still somehow different than the way darkspawn make his skin crawl, and he leaves Dorian along without hesitation. He searches through Skyhold, first heading up to the rooms where visitors are kept, but Kate isn’t in the one the servant points him to. 

The bed barely looks slept in, and he continues searching through the keep’s grounds.

When he hesitates in the upper courtyard near the innocuous door that he knows leads to the prison cells, something makes him turn around and stare at it. Surely Kate wouldn’t have a reason to be down there, but he’s looked nearly everywhere else… 

He gives in to the temptation and pushes through the door, following the steep stairs down into the belly of the keep. It’s quiet down here, no prisoners currently being held and therefore no guards outside of the cells, but he pushes through the first room to the second.

This one is open to the waterfall below Skyhold, the wooden floor rotting away from all the moisture in the air. Kate sits on one of the whole portions closest to the drop, her knees tucked against her chest. She’s still wearing Cadash’s tunic, though she’s found a pair of plaidweave leggings to wear under it, and she doesn’t look when Alistair’s footfalls start to echo through the chamber.

“How do you always find me?” she demands, tucking her face tighter against her knees.

Alistair stops walking a few feet behind her, watching as her shoulders hunch, drawing in on herself. The prickling sensation that drove him to find her after she was missing from the library calms in his mind, and his shoulders relax even as he stares at her with a frown. He can’t see any of her skin other than her bare feet and the back her neck, but as she shifts he can see the end of a tattoo on her shoulder, what looks like a lowercase R.

He takes a step closer but freezes as the floor creaks under him.

“I suppose the same way you knew it was me without turning around?” he offers, answering her question even after the several seconds of silence stretching between them.  She snorts and shakes her head, finally glancing over her shoulder at him to send him an unamused look.

He shifts from foot to foot, fingers twisting around themselves as though he wants to snatch her back from Skyhold’s edge. “Will you… will you please come back from there?” he pleads, voice a little higher at the end of his sentence than it was at the beginning. 

Kate sighs at his request and scoots backward before twisting to stand on the more solid floorboards. The motion pulls at her loose tunic, exposing Alistair’s name branded on her shoulder. His eyes catch on it immediately and his stomach clenches at the sight, but it’s nothing he didn’t already know, not with her name already on his skin and the spark that jumped between them in the library.

He reaches down for her hand to help her up, and she lets him tug hard on her arm. With his help she’s able to leap to her feet away from the edge, and she ignores the sound of the wood creaking even as Alistair shudders. He doesn’t let go of her hand, using it to continue pulling her back to safety.

He stops when they reach the safe area of the prison, the one approved for Inquisition use, and looks down at their still clasped hands. He drops her fingers quickly, crossing his arms over his chest as she blushes hotly and turns away.

She wants to leave him there, push past him and disappear somewhere else into Skyhold where maybe no one will be able to find her this time, but now that he has her alone…

“Kate,” he starts, but a sharp look from the woman shuts him right up.

“Did you know?” she demands. “When you found me on the wall? Or in the library?”

He blinks down at her. “Did I… know?” he repeats, earning himself another unamused look.

She turns away slightly, shifting her shoulders until he can see the rest of the soulmark on her shoulder.  He swallows hard as her green eyes flash back up to his.

“Did. You. Know.” She clearly enunciates each word, letting him know how serious she is. 

Alistair hesitates, not sure what to say, then forces the truth out: “I suspected. I didn’t  _ know _ .”

Kate sniffs a little, swiping at her nose with the back of her hand as she looks away from him. “I don’t know what to do.”

Her voice sounds small, her fear showing her age and innocence in a world like Thedas. Alistair wants to reach out and clutch her to his chest, but he settles for putting one large hand on her shoulder, the one with his name on it, and squeezing gently.

She allows his touch for a moment, ducking her head toward him like she might step into him after all, but she shies away before either of them has a chance to act on that thought.

“I don’t know what to do either.” The admission is calming to her, and her shoulders relax slightly even as her arms wrap around her stomach.

A shiver runs through her from the cold of the exposed room, but she only allows herself a moment of weakness before she squares her shoulders and stands up straight.

“You’re leaving for the Approach tomorrow, right?” At Alistair’s nod, Kate presses her lips together in thought. “And I’ll be here, researching.”

Silence falls between them, both of them standing with their arms wrapped around themselves instead of each other. Her thumb falls to the silver ring on her left hand, an old habit that now just draws Alistair’s attention to one more thing standing between them.

Hesitation nearly ties Alistair’s tongue, but he finally manages to say, “Could I write you?”

Kate’s lips part in surprise as she looks up at him. Their eyes meet and Alistair’s face heats up before she speaks. “You want to write me? While you’re in a desert? Will you… have time?”

“I’ll make time. For you.” 

She swallows hard and blushes, her whole body warming from just that simple sentence. It’s always like that, him awkward and blushing one minute and saying something unbearably sweet the next. It’s what drew her attention to him in the first place. And now that he’s standing here…

She bites hard on the inside of her lip before turning to force her attention back to the man standing in front of her. “I would like that.”

Alistair’s whole face lights up. “Really?”

He looks so excited, and it’s all she can do to keep from reaching up to touch the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes or wrapping her arms around him and begging him not to leave the safety of Skyhold.

Instead, she just nods. “Words are… it’s easier to write, sometimes.” Her eyes flicker over his face as he continues grinning down at her, completely delighted with what she’s saying.

“Perfect!” His voice is a little too loud in the otherwise silent room, and he immediately quiets himself when he sees her flinch from the noise. “Will you… come to the tavern tonight? Everyone will be there, I think. Hawke too.”

Kate’s nodding before she thinks about what he’s asking. “I… oh. These are my only clothes right now. Everything else is off being washed… somewhere.”

Alistair looks down at her body, a serious expression briefly on his face, before he unclasps his cloak from around his neck. He whips it around with a flourish, settling it on her much narrower shoulders without a second thought. He fastens it there before smoothing the fabric over her arms.

“There,” he declares. “You’re perfect.” He beams down at her, pleased with himself, and notes the way her cheeks pinken at the compliment.

She coughs and ducks her head, eyes sliding away from him in time to see his hand reaching for hers. She lets him take her fingers and tuck them into the crook of his elbow before he turns.

“Shall I escort you back to your library tower, my lady?”

Kate laughs at his words, a light sound, and she manages to stand up a little straighter next to him. “I suppose I should put in an appearance before Dorian drags me off to watch the sparring sessions for lunch.”

They barely notice anything as they move through Skyhold other than the feel of each other on their skin and the occasional brushing of their shoulders as they walk.


	8. and now you have only made me miss you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Letters between Alistair and Kate while he's in the Approach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter, but the good stuff is coming soon.

Kate--

We’ve arrived in the Approach. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much sand in my entire life, and I hope I never have to again. Hawke and I are scouting ahead of the Inquisitor, but I had enough time in the forward camp to charm the lead scout into letting me have a piece of paper and ink to write and let you know I’m safe. 

I hope your research is going well and that you found something to wear other than Sera’s leggings.

Alistair

\---

Alistair,

I don’t envy your time in the Approach. I’ve never been to a desert, but I hate sand in general. It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere.

God, I’m sorry. That would be funny back home.

I should probably start saying Maker now since I’m here. MAKER KNOWS I thought it enough back home that it slipped out a couple of times. I’ll work on it.

Anyway. I’m very happy to see that you’re safe, and I hope you remain so. There’s a dragon that roosts  somewhere in the desert, I think pretty far southwest so you shouldn’t even see it, but watch out just in case. The wildlife is poisonous so don’t let them bite you (I mean I know you’d avoid it anyway but).

If you DO happen to fight anything dragon-like, I would love a scale. We don’t have real dragons back home. We maybe used to? But if we did, they’re all dead, and I’ve never seen one.

Stay safe. Take care of yourself and Hawke. I’ll see you soon.

Kate

PS--how close ARE you and Hawke? Do you know what’s up with her and Cullen? Inquiring minds want to know.

\---

Kate--

Who are these inquiring minds exactly? I know Hawke exactly well enough to know that if I asked her that question, I would just get a punch in the nose as an answer, and I happen to like my nose the way it is.

I don’t think I’ll be able to bring you a dragon scale. I fought a high dragon once in the Frostbacks, and I never plan on doing it again. I’ll pass along your request to this Qunari traveling with the Inquisitor. He was  very excited when I passed along your warning about the dragon. A little too excited, maybe? I don’t know.

Will you tell me what your world is like? I want to know everything. Is it very different from Thedas? What do you miss the most? What is the food like? Did you leave behind family?

I’m looking forward to hearing from you again. Stay safe.

Alistair

P.S. I know Hawke has his name on her ankle. That’s all I can tell you.

\---

Alistair,

Just me. I was the inquiring mind. I’m a nosy, nosy bitch.

~~ I also happen to like ~~

Bull does really like dragons. I’d avoid the subject.

I don’t even know what to say about my world. I keep leaving this letter and coming back to it, but I don’t want to wait any longer to send you one. It is extremely different than Thedas. One big difference is that we have no Veil, no spirits or demons, and no magic. We have technology, like the dwarves have I guess, and we’re probably like 1000 years ahead of you guys.

I don’t miss a lot. I miss my family. My pets. I only had a few friends. I miss being able to take a quick shower because of the water pressure to rinse out my hair. I miss grocery stores, soda, and coffee. I’ve been having cravings like you wouldn’t believe just because I know I can’t get any. Indoor climate control, so that it was always around 70 degrees. The internet. I miss having music all the time. It’s so quiet here. I hate the quiet.

There’s so much food there. Not for everyone, but for me, where I lived, there was so much food. You would love it. Hamburgers, pasta, cheese to cover everything. Pizza. Beers. Whatever fruit or vegetable that strikes your fancy in season all the time. It’s overwhelming.

I ~~had~~ have a large family. Three sisters and a brother. Three brothers-in-law. Nine nieces and nephews. Both my parents ~~were~~ are still alive. I have one grandmother still alive; she’s almost 100 years old. I ~~was~~ am (?) married, so I had parents-in-law, three sisters-in-law, three brothers-in-law, two nieces and a nephew on that side too. Holidays were so loud and busy.

I miss all of them too.

When you come back from the Approach we can talk about this all more. I don’t know what else to say. I know you don’t know a lot of what I explained. I think the internet would just blow your mind, but you don’t know what it is, and I don’t know how to explain it in a letter.

Not to complain or anything, because I’m safe in Skyhold where I only have to worry about tripping in my skirts or whatever, but how much longer will you be gone? I’ve never had to worry about someone’s life like this before, and it’s absolutely killing me.

I have more questions about the Joining too. Fiona is no help. 

Dagna’s been helping me though. She has a lot of theories. Did you go to Orzammar with Tabris? Dagna is the dwarf you helped study in the Fereldan Circle. She’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met.

Stay safe. Tell everyone I said hello.

Kate

\---

Kate--

You’re right. I shouldn’t have said anything else about dragons to Bull.

I think waiting until I return to Skyhold is an excellent idea. I have a million more questions for you, and I think it would be best to save on paper by waiting, though I don’t want to.

Please don’t worry about me. I’m safe enough. We’ve cleared the ritual tower and I helped the Inquisitor and her companions clear Griffon Wing Keep as well. Hawke and I are leaving today to scout Adamant Fortress. It’s only a day’s march away from Griffon Wing, so it shouldn’t take us too far out of the way before we can come back to Skyhold.

I have a feeling you know what’s waiting for us in Adamant. I wish you would have said something before we left.

Is Blackwall not in Skyhold to help you with your research? I’d have thought a Warden-Constable would be able to give you more information than I ever could.

I did meet Dagna! She’s at Skyhold now? I’ll have to speak with her when I return. That’s so amazing.

I’ll see you soon.

Alistair

_ (attached is an iridescent blue and turquoise scale, roughly triangular in shape, about half the size of Kate’s palm) _

\---

Alistair,

THANK YOU FOR THE DRAGON SCALE. This is, by far, the BEST thing anyone’s ever sent me. I can’t even believe it. I’m so happy. THANK YOU. Dagna is going to make a fitting for it so I can wear it as a necklace. I’m not ashamed to say I got a little teary-eyed when I realized what it was. 

I thought you weren’t going to fight the dragon?? You didn’t mention it in your letter! It didn’t hurt you, did it?

I spoke with Cullen and Cadash about Adamant. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to you, too. If you want to talk about it when you come home back to Skyhold, we can, and I’ll tell you everything I remember. It isn’t all that much, really.

Blackwall is even more reluctant to share details of the Wardens. I think I’ll stick with you as my helper, if that’s okay.

Please come back soon.

Yours,

Kate

\---

Kate, just got your letter. We’re a few days out from Skyhold. See you soon. A.


	9. And I close my eyes and think of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair is back from the approach, and Adamant is drawing nearer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter for kagetsukai who flattered me into updating.

As soon as Kate hears the horn sounding the Inquisitor’s return, she abandons her books and scurries to the lower courtyard. The temptation is there, as always, to simply leap off of the first platform of the outer steps and land amid the tents still set up at their base, but she takes the long way around. She runs at first, only forcing herself to slow as she reaches her destination.

She can see Cullen descending the stairs by his office, following the switchback at a much more stately pace than she navigated the main stairs. His mouth is set into a grim line as he walks, and his expression darkens into a glare as he sees Kate.

She freezes under the weight of his stare, but after just a breath he forces a smile onto his face.

“My lady,” he greets, voice polite. He dips his head in greeting, and she blinks up at him. “You will be attending the council meeting this afternoon?”

Kate takes a deep breath but nods, and they both turn to face the gate. The Inquisitor’s group is still making their way over the bridge, and Kate stretches up onto her tiptoes to get a better view. “That’s the plan. Uhh. Ser.” She glances sideways at him, but he doesn’t react to her again, eyes trained now on a tall blonde figure hovering at the back of the group.

Kate smiles at this, amused even as she does the same, searching for Alistair in the small crowd. It takes her a moment to see him, hidden as he is behind Bull, but as soon as she spots his dark auburn hair a wide smile breaks across her face that she has a hard time trying to tame.

He sees her at the same time, and when their eyes meet his whole face changes. A grin makes his eyes light up and he squares his shoulders, turning from the group to meet her instead of walking straight up the stairs with everyone else.

She takes a step closer to him, freezing as a blush heats her face, suddenly keenly aware of the eyes of everyone else in the lower courtyard flicking over to watch them.

Alistair stops a few steps away too, one arm half extended like he might reach out for a hug. Instead of pulling her in, he lets his arm drop back to his side. He glances over at Cullen, who is barely paying attention to them in favor of watching Hawke walk across the cobblestones.

“Commander,” Alistair greets, pulling Cullen’s attention to him for the briefest of moments.

“Alistair,” he says, a little frown twisting the corners of his mouth down. “Welcome back to Skyhold. Please, excuse me.” He claps Alistair on the shoulder as he pushes past, following after the Inquisitor… and Hawke, who glances over her shoulder before picking up the pace.

Alistair and Kate watch him stalk away before turning back to each other. A moment of silence passes as they each take deep breaths to speak but can’t find their words before Kate finally manages, “He doesn’t like me.”

A frown passes over Alistair’s face. “Who, the commander?”

Kate nods. “It’s because I came from a rift, I think. He’s not entirely convinced I’m not a demon.” A frown passes over her face as she turns to glare after Cullen’s retreating back, now all the way around the top of the courtyard steps, entering the main keep. Given how Cullen views Cole, it isn’t the most unexpected way he could see her, but it’s still frustrating.

She snaps her gaze back to Alistair, the former templar who will actually look her in the eye, and forces herself to smile. He’s still staring at her, a little smile on his face despite the way his eyebrows are drawn together. 

“I…” she lowers her voice and laces her fingers together, squeezing gently against the rising embarrassment painting her face red. “I’m glad you’re back.” She hesitates again for another moment, before shaking her head once, fast, and closing the distance between them to wrap her arms around his neck in a hug.

She has to stretch up to reach him, and as he wraps his arms around her waist in automatic response, he can see her stretch up on the toes of one foot while bending her other leg at the knee.

He clutches her a little tighter and squeezes his eyes shut, just letting himself enjoy the feeling of her in his arms for the moment. She doesn’t even seem to mind that he must smell like he’s been walking around Thedas for weeks without a proper bath.

She’s still smiling when she breaks away from him, cheeks a little pink, and she doesn’t stand as far away from him as she was before.

“I have to meet with Cadash,” she says, exactly as Alistair finally spits out, “I like that dress.”

She stops speaking mid-word and glances down at herself. The last thing Alistair saw her wearing was an ill-fitting outfit made up of Sera’s plaidweave leggings and one of Cadash’s tunics, but since then her order with Bonny Sims had been completed. Now she’s the proud owner of  _ several  _ different dresses, all similarly cut but in different colors, with full skirts and long sleeves that are comfy enough to wear all day.

She smooths her hands over the front, down her stomach, and grins up at him. “Thanks,” she says, running the fingers of one hand through her hair. The blonde strands fluff under her attention as she tucks them away from her face.

Silence grows between them for a moment before she says, “Can we get dinner?” she asks, tilting her head to the side as she gazes up at him. She wraps one arm around her stomach and reaches up with her other hand to rest her fingers over where his name is written on her shoulder. “I have some research to go over with you. I’ve been working with Dagna some too, and she’s been a  _ lot  _ of help since I don’t have any scientific training.”

Alistair’s already nodding before she’s finished her explanation, and her smile grows as she watches his enthusiastic response.

“And!” she continues, eyebrows raising. “I need you to tell me all about that dragon.” She moves a little to pull at a leather string around her neck, tugging on it until the little scale is pulled free of her collar and catches the sun.

Alistair’s eyes fall to the scale in her fingers, his grin growing as he sees her wearing his gift. “The story isn’t as exciting as you’re thinking,” he tries, but she shakes her head and interrupts him.

“Do you know how many years I’ve been waiting to touch a dragon scale?” Her eyes are shining even as he shakes his head. “It’ll be exciting no matter what, I promise.” She hestiates again, but reaches out and rests her free hand on his arm for just a moment. “I’ll see you for dinner, okay?”

“It’s a date.” Alistair winks at her before she turns and makes her way into the keep proper.

He stands and watches as she climbs the stairs, eyes tracking her movements until she disappears through the main doors. It’s only then that he shakes himself and turns to head toward the small room he’s been given by the Inquisitor.

He can’t wait for dinner.

\---

Cadash sighs heavily and leans against the war table. There are shadows under her eyes that weren’t there before she left, and her nose is still burned from her time in the Approach. She stares down at the large marker indicating Adamant Fortress and shakes her head.

“Alistair and Hawke said there were hardly any Wardens there that they could see. No demons, no army, just Wardens hiding.”

Kate shrugs a little. “I don’t know what to tell you, except the sooner our army makes it there, the better things will be. I don’t know if I’m speeding up the timeline or what, but I  _ promise  _ we need to go.” She drums her fingers on the edge of the table until she catches Cullen’s glare, and she quickly tucks her hands together behind her back. “I don’t know how to plan a siege, but I know you need equipment and the army, and we need to leave, like, tomorrow.”

Cullen frowns. “Planning a siege takes  _ time _ . We need to get the equipment, and…”

Kate rolls her eyes up toward him, already glaring. “Which is why we discussed this just after Cadash left for the approach. You should be almost done with the planning, yes?”

The other women in the room turn to look at Cullen as well, eyebrows raising, and his scowl only deepens under their expectant faces.

“We are ready,” he says, speaking slowly so that Kate won’t take his words to mean something other than what he’s saying. “The army has been aware that we will need to march soon, and they have been making preparations. I will begin mobilizing them immediately, but it will still  _ take time  _ to have everyone ready and march across Orlais to the Approach.”

“Then we have a plan,” Cadash cuts in tiredly, looking from Cullen to Kate and back. “Josie, are we ready to deal with… whatever political things you’ve been taking care of?”

Josephine smiles slightly, standing up just a little straighter now that it’s her time to shine. She’s been working tirelessly to make sure their army has permission to march through Orlais to get to the Approach without drawing the wrath of either the Empire or the nobles who own the land between Skyhold and Adamant Fortress.

Kate is both impressed by and afraid of the ambassador, and she lets her focus drift as she begins speaking about things and people that Kate doesn’t remember from the game.

She looks down at the map instead, looking at the little pins and markers scattered over its surface. Each one represents a person, or a group of people, who are depending on Cadash and the Inquisition to keep them safe from the myriad of threats to their safety. Corypheus, darkspawn, the Breach, demons, rifts… it’s all so much, and Kate’s never felt the true weight of it before.

It’s all she can do to focus her attention on the one or two things she knows enough about to impact: the Wardens, the group she loves even more than the Inquisition, selling themselves to Erimond and sacrificing their lives to kill the Old Gods and stop the Blights before they can begin, making a decision out of fear rather than because it’s right.

If she can’t cure the Calling--and she’s only sure it’s possible because of the obvious evidence of Fiona’s clean blood--she doesn’t know what she’ll do. Alistair deserves the chance to live his life the way he wants to, and from birth he’s never been allowed to make that choice for himself. 

Kate drags her thoughts away from Alistair before they distract her completely or draw tears to her eyes like they have before. She looks back up and around the room, but Leliana is now speaking about scouts in eastern Ferelden, and none of them are paying attention to her. She could probably slip out, but if they have any more questions…

She needs to figure out what to do to save Alistair  _ and  _ Hawke in Adamant. People in stories usually just tell Solas and he comes up with a plan, but she isn’t sure if that will work here. And she’s been carefully avoiding Solas since she arrived. They haven’t even exchanged a single word, afraid as she is of him realizing she knows who he truly is, what his plan is.

That’s another thing she could worry about and let consume her if she let it. She won’t. Not yet, anyway.

There’s still time. She’ll talk to him before they leave for the Approach. Cadash needs to know which of her companions to leave behind in Adamant anyway, and it will all work out.

_ It will all work out. _

\---

“There she is!” Dorian sees Kate first when she makes her way into the tavern, calling a loud greeting to pull her attention over to the table he’s sharing with Bull, Alistair, Cadash, and Sera. The elf is draped over Cadash’s lap in a way that doesn’t look comfortable for either of them, but neither woman seems to mind, and Kate smiles at the sight as she changes her course and makes her way in their direction.

She squeezes onto the bench between Alistair and Dorian, her face immediately heating as her leg and arm press against the warrior’s side. She can’t bring herself to look up at him, focusing instead on the plate of food and mug of ale that Bull slides across to her.

She eyes the food and drink suspiciously, but under Bull’s encouraging stare she begins to nibble at it with just a little less caution than she did her first day in Thedas. The Qunari grins, proud, and she smiles back at him and lets the conversation of the crowd wash over her.

This isn’t so different than nights out with friends back home. The smell is different, and it’s a little louder, and there are types of people other than  _ human,  _ but the camaraderie and the teasing and the general feeling of  _ home  _ is the same, and for the second time in a day she has to take a deep breath to fight the threat of tears.

Alistair moves, bumping his elbow into hers, and she finally looks up at him with a slightly watery smile. He notices immediately, and his smile falters. He doesn’t hesitate before standing, grabbing for her hand as he makes some excuse to the others that’s only met with laughter and a loud whistle from Sera.

Kate follows him obediently, even has excuses appear on her tongue for her momentary lapse of control. He doesn’t pause to let her speak until he finds them a quiet place to stand away from the boisterous tavern below. She barely notices the spot he’s led her to as the one where the Inquisitor’s first meeting with Hawke happens before Alistair’s removing his cloak and draping it around her shoulders.

She snuggles down into the warmth, turning the collar up to block more of the breeze. Alistair’s scent surrounds her and her face heats as she has to fight the urge to bury her face in the soft fabric and breathe deeply.

He’s gazing down at her with a frown, his hands fisted at his sides like he isn’t sure what to do with them, and she grins.

“I was fine,” she says, immediately trying to soothe him. “I was just… happy.” She blinks once, embarrassed, but forces herself not to look away.

Alistair’s eyebrows draw together and his forehead wrinkles. “Happy?”

Kate nods. “Yeah. I… I was just thinking it felt like home.”

His concern evaporates, replaced by a wide grin that she finds herself matching. “I…” he hesitates, changes his mind, and sighs. “Good.”

She takes a step closer. “You didn’t tell me about the dragon.” She’s close enough now that she has to tilt her head to look up at him, and she watches with interest as he licks his lips and swallows hard before glancing away from her.

“I… some professor convinced the Inquisitor to help him do research on it. Or, he convinced the Bull, and  _ he  _ convinced Cadash. Either way, it ended up attacking us and we had to fight it. I managed to pull the scale off and slip it into my pocket before we had to give it up to the scouts to take apart for materials.”

Kate’s fingers move to play with the scale without thinking, and Alistair watches the movements before forcing his gaze back up to her eyes. “You weren’t hurt, right?”

She’s looking up at him with… he doesn’t know what it is, not really, but it makes him feel warm and just a bit brave, and he reaches out for her as he answers her question. “Nothing a healing potion and a good night’s rest didn’t cure.” His arm encircles her shoulders and pulls her the final step toward him. 

She moves easily, letting him tug her closer until her cheek is resting against his blessedly unarmored chest and her body is leaning against his. Her arms sneak around his waist and hold him closer, another watery smile covering her face as she feels him kiss the top of her head.

“You don’t have to worry about me, you know,” he says, voice low.

“Someone has to,” she says, and leans back just enough to look up at him. “All I want to do is protect you, and I can’t, so I just have to worry.”

“Please don’t,” he says, voice almost pleading, heart twisting uncomfortably in his chest at the idea of her waiting back in Skyhold for him, worry plaguing her.

She scowls. “I’m going to see if I can come with the army to the Approach.” She begins talking faster as Alistair starts to protest and tucks her head back against his chest. He shifts so that his other arm is around her too, his chin resting on the top of her head. “Not to Adamant, just to Griffon Wing. I… I need to be nearby. I need to help.”

Alistair sighs but doesn’t argue further, closing his eyes to silently pray that, if He won’t keep her in Skyhold, the Maker will at  _ least  _ keep her safe.

As the silence falls between them, they both push thoughts of Adamant out of their minds and focus on the feeling of being in each other’s arms at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters, maybe two chapters and an epilogue left, friends.


	10. I got you here with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate travels to Griffon Wing Keep via Val Royeaux.

Val Royeaux is bigger than Kate expected it to be. The game only showed a very small area of the marketplace, for some reason, and she feels overwhelmed almost as soon as their horses cross the city gates and they start heading for their hotel.

It took some doing, but she finally convinced Cadash to bring her on the trip to Adamant. While the army and Cullen are marching directly to the old fortress, Cadash is taking a detour to help Josephine out with a _ little problem _ in the city. Kate keeps her opinions on the matter to herself. Josephine can handle the House of Repose regardless of her input, and she’s just excited to be somewhere that isn’t Skyhold.

Even if that place is in Orlais.

Their stopover will be brief, only a day or two before they leave Josephine behind and speed to meet the army before they reach Adamant. Dorian and Vivienne are with them as well, both of the mages planning on making purchases in the city to be shipped back to Skyhold while Cadash and Josephine are busy. Sera’s tagging along to meet some of her friends, and she disappears almost immediately after kissing Cadash’s cheek.

Vivienne disappears quickly as well, off to find the items on her shopping list and meet some old friends, and Josephine leads Cadash off to wherever they need to meet the assassin. This leaves Kate alone with Dorian, and she looks up at the friendly mage with wide, frightened eyes.

He clucks his tongue at her.

“Come, little spirit,” he says, a look crossing his face that’s half exasperated and half amused. “Be good while I get what I need, and I’ll help you with whatever it is you dragged yourself halfway across Thedas for.”

Kate follows Dorian around Val Royeaux all morning, occasionally watching as he haggles and shops with an expertise that has Kate impressed and baffled. She always preferred shopping online, and that’s without the problem of having to argue over pricing and quality, and she’s beginning to doubt her own ability to buy anything on her own, ever.

It isn’t a problem, not really, because she lets Dorian argue with the shopkeepers when it’s her turn to shop after lunch. He seems to thrive off of the debate, bargaining with the merchants until Kate is able to afford nearly twice the supplies than she would have if she’d wandered over by herself--more than  half, probably, as the very first shopkeeper tried to convince her that the cheaper dyed silk was worth more than the higher quality royale sea silk--and she’s grateful.

She thanks him an annoying amount of times, insisting on buying him a coffee from the little cafe near the hotel where the Inquisitor booked them all rooms for the night. They drink quietly, surrounded by their bags, and Kate savors the taste that she hasn’t had in the months since she arrived in Thedas.

It’s just as good as she remembers.

In the hotel, Cadash and Sera barge into Kate’s room almost as soon as she’s taken her shoes off. Sera begins diving into Kate’s boxes--some having been delivered back to the hotel, and some carried there in little paper bags--as Cadash begins pouring the wine she brought clutched in her hand.

“So you  _ knew  _ Josie was being targeted by the House of Repose?” Cadash asks, arching her eyebrows. 

Kate winces at first, but when she realizes there’s no anger there, she relaxes and curls up at one end of her room’s couch with her glass of wine clutched in her hands. “I knew you would keep her safe,” she said, purposefully avoiding the question Cadash asked as the dwarf joins her on the couch.

“Who’s this for, then?” Sera demands, a gleam in her eye. 

Both women turn to see Sera proudly holding one of Kate’s purchases over her head. Kate just blushes and rolls her eyes at the sight of the small, lacy thing waving in the air. 

She tosses the fabric to Cadash, who catches it easily.

The dwarf sets her wine glass on the low table by the couch and examines the panties too, holding them with her index fingers hooked into the band. Another piece of fabric sails through the air and hits Kate in the side of the head, and she sighs heavily as a third lands on the couch between them.

“Did ya buy every piece they had?” Sera demands, voice high. “Who’re you showing off for, anyway? Thought you and Ser Fancy Armor weren’t  _ doin’ it _ .” She pulls another pair out, this one in a lovely shade of pink and holds them closer to her face to inspect. “Can I have these ones?”

Cadash turns to see what Sera’s holding, eyebrows raised, and shakes her head. “You don’t even wear smalls, bee,” she says, amusement clear in her voice. 

Sera gives her lover a look of absolute disgust. “I don’t want to  _ wear  _ em,” she says.

Kate shakes her head and holds her hand out for the panties, and Sera returns them with a small pout. “I’ll get you a pair for your birthday, if you’d like,” she says, and puts them with the others now piled on the couch. “These are more like what I had back home. I like them.” She avoids their eyes and folds each pair into tiny squares under the watchful eyes of Cadash and Sera. 

“So are you two…” Cadash’s voice trails off, gently, letting Kate fill in the blanks.

“Listen, I’ve been in love with Alistair since the first time I saw him. Not in the tavern--” she adds this to deter Cadash’s next question, and continues. “Before. Playing the… the game. Seeing him was a shock. A big one. Just being here is, really, and it’s hard to adjust.”

Her voice catches and she has to pause to scrub at her eyes with her knuckles as Cadash nods slowly and Sera drapes herself on the floor next to her. She rests her head against Cadash’s thigh, and the dwarf absently pets at her hair as Kate continues.

“After Adamant…” she trails off, squints into the air over Cadash’s head as she considers what to say. “Things. Might change? Yeah.” She nods, satisfied with her barely-there explanation. “And these,” she holds up the pink pair of panties to demonstrate, “might help.”

“Kate, what happens at Adamant?” Cadash’s voice is low, serious, and her eyes are hardening. Sera perks up at the noise, glancing up at Cadash before turning her attention back to Kate. “What was so important that you had to come all the way across Thedas to see?”

A pregnant pause follows where Kate doesn’t breathe, starting to bow under the attention of both women.

Then she takes a deep breath and begins to explain.

\---

The Western Approach is exactly as miserable as Kate had expected it to be. The sun is so bright that her eyes have been watering for the entire ride through the desert, it’s hot enough that she’s sweated straight through her traveling clothes, and there’s a tight ball of anxiety swirling in her chest.

She wasn’t expecting the anxiety, though she should have. The near constant worry that’s been present ever since she arrived in Thedas is only growing now that Adamant and the Inquisitor’s trip through the Fade. Every few breaths it threatens to consume her, and she has to take a deep breath and shudder to push it away.

Dorian keeps sending her sympathetic glances, but Cadash and Sera are both still quietly considering what they’ll soon be facing. Kate refuses to speak of it, even when they crest the last rise in the Approach and Griffon Wing Keep finally appears, just a few more minutes away.

She’s sore from riding so much, but she spurs her horse to move faster and hurries. There are tents set up around the Keep, sprawling through the desert as the army rests before the battle. She winds through them, slowing down slightly, and follows one soldier’s direction to the stable to drop off her horse.

She nearly falls over when she tries to walk up into the Keep, legs trembling from their abuse, but she makes her way to the large, open doors without assistance.

Alistair is there to greet her, a smile ready on his face even before he sees her. When he does, he crosses the space between them without hesitating, leaning down to wrap his arms around her in a hug. He lifts her off of her feet, and she laughs as she throws her arms around his neck.

He squeezes her tightly before setting her back down, and she sags against him with her fingers tucked into the collar of his breastplate. She can feel the heat of his hands on her waist through her shirt and her cheeks darken before she makes herself stand up straight and pull away.

Even the small amount of distance between them makes the anxiety begin to churn again, so she reaches out and takes his hand in hers. Their fingers link together and something else blooms in her chest instead, making her cheeks stay dark.

Ignoring the pain in her legs, she looks up and offers him a smile to match the one on his. “Give me the tour?”

Alistair nods. “As you wish.”

\---

“We march at first light,” he says, and Kate nods. She already knew that, would have known that even if he hadn’t thought to tell her. But of course he had. “You’ll be safe here.”

She leans against him, arms propped up on the crenelation as her shoulder bumps into his. “I’m still not worried about me.” She doesn’t look at him, but she does rest her head against his shoulder when she hears him sigh.

“I… wish you’d stayed in Skyhold, safe,” he says, voice just a whisper, “but I’m happy you’re here.”

Kate blushes and presses a little closer, but Alistair moves away so that he can turn to face her. He takes her right hand in his left, linking their fingers together, and uses his free hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. She inhales slowly and catches her breath as his hand doesn’t move away from her face, gently cupping her jaw.

She tilts her head back and meets his gaze, her blush blooming across her cheeks. His eyes drop down to her lips then back up to her eyes, a matching blush on his face, and she lists forward against him in encouragement.

His hand slips from her face to the back of her head, holding her still as he leans down to close the distance between them. Their mouths meet in the lightest brushing of lips once, then again, and finally a third time before he pulls away with a tiny sigh.

She chases his mouth, reaching up to pull him back down for another, firmer kiss. He shivers and Kate smiles against his lips before releasing him. He pulls her against his chest and she snakes her arms around his waist and tucks her head under his chin, relaxing into his embrace.

“You’ll stay safe tomorrow?” she asks, voice quiet.

Above her, Alistair sighs. She feels the rise and fall against her cheek, and she bites her lip as she waits for him to speak.

“I promise I’ll try.”

It’s the best he can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to make Adamant its own chapter, so you get 12 chapters now!


	11. Will I come back from this?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adamant.

The army leaves for Adamant at dawn, and Kate is there to watch them disappear over the horizon. Anxiety churns in her gut, only growing tighter the farther Alistair gets from her. The closer he is to the old Warden fortress, the closer he is to the Fade, and the nightmare demon, and the possibility of never returning to her.

She paces around the Keep, trying to work off the energy that keeps her heart pounding and breaths occasionally gasping into her lungs. Nothing seems to calm her, and soon the skeleton crew left behind to defend the Keep just learn to step out of her way when she comes back through on yet another lap.

She pushes herself until her legs ache and sweat soaks her clothes, the heat of the desert eternally rising as the sun bakes the keep. She bathes, then tries to make herself lie down instead of getting sick, listening to the feeling of  _ not safe not safe not safe. _

Night falls and she still hasn’t slept, so she resumes her pacing.

Surely it’s almost time, now. Surely---

The coil of energy snaps within her, and she stumbles to her knees. A nearby soldier starts at the sight, and runs over to help her to her feet.

“My lady, you--” he tries to ask if she’s okay, but she can’t hear his words, can barely even see him over the sudden emptiness inside of her.

The feeling of Alistair being  _ too far away not safe  _ has disappeared, but nothing replaces it. She’s utterly empty. She shakes violently, weakness overpowering her, but she forces herself to stand on her own by clutching the poor soldier who doesn’t seem to know what to make of this woman.

Her soul says  _ he’s gone;  _ the mark on her shoulder burns.

It takes her a long moment before she realizes this means he must have fallen in the Fade, but when the thought screams into her mind, she grabs the soldier’s breastplate and shakes him to get his attention, as though he would be able to look anywhere but her.

“It’s time,” she says, and immediately turns to leave. She goes to her room and gathers her things, shoved into a few small packs for easy travel by horseback. The soldier is still standing where she left him, eyes wide, and she glares. “Let’s go. Take me to Adamant.”

The soldier frowns and takes a deep breath to argue, but she doesn’t have time for that.

“That’s an  _ order, _ ” she snaps, though she has no right to give him orders, and he jumps to attention and actually salutes her before leading her through the Keep.

\---

Alistair clutches his sword a little tighter and tries to ignore the sweat running down his neck. Everything about this place feels  _ wrong  _ and nothing like the last time he was in the Fade, in the Circle tower. Hawke seems to be faring little better, her eyes narrow and her jaw set firmly. Her greatsword is still in her hands, despite its weight, and she shifts from foot to foot as the mages in their party calmly discuss the Fade--Dorian fondly reminiscing on his first time meeting a demon while Solas just seems thrilled to be here physically.

They  _ calmly discuss the Fade,  _ as though there’s anything about this to be  _ calm  _ about.

When they finally begin to move, Alistair keeps guard at the back of the group. Cadash seems to know where she’s going, weaving through the weird rocks and the puddles of water without hesitation. Kate probably told her  _ all  _ about this, Alistair muses as he cuts the head off of what looks like a truly large bird--or perhaps some sort of weird feathery dragon?--but is evidently a small fear demon.

He doesn’t tell the others what he saw, even as Hawke says she fought spiders and Cadash admits to fighting wolves. The dwarf touches the scars across her face, and Alistair distracts himself by wondering what happened to her to keep himself from thinking of the fact that he’s so put off by  _ birds  _ that they showed up in his Nightmare.

Cadash doesn’t even seem put off by the spirit of Divine Justinia--or the spirit in the  _ shape  _ of Divine Justinia? He needs to remember to ask Kate about that when he gets out of here--and just collects her memories from the wisp like she does this every day.

Dwarves don’t even  _ dream _ . How is Cadash so calm?

The closer they get to the Nightmare’s lair, the more demons appear to try and hold them back. Pride demons, monstrous things with hides so thick Alistair’s sword breaks at the tip, nearly wear them down before they reach their goal. The rift is visible, an ugly rend in the Fade that somehow looks different on this side than it does on the other--more angry, pulling instead of pushing--and they try to run to it but the Nightmare stops them.

The fight is worse than all the others before. Everyone is exhausted already, wounded from the hoards of demons and fearlings that have been attacking them for the last… how long has it been? Hours? Days? Alistair can’t remember. He just prays that the Maker will let him return to Kate as he roars and runs up to the demon, slashing out with his ruined weapon.

Cadash is right there with him, and so is Hawke, her light hair completely black from the ichor also covering her armor. The mages fight from farther away, keeping up barriers and sending elemental magic to harm and distract the Nightmare from its fight with the warriors.

Vivienne’s spectral sword cleaves through the smaller demons as easily as Alistair’s weapon, and she keeps a serene look of focus during the entire fight until the Nightmare demon finally explodes in a shower of ichor and rot, and only then does she release the spell that holds the knight-enchanter blade and grimaces.

“Let’s not linger, my dear,” she says, glancing seriously at Cadash before turning to face the rift.

Cadash nods in exhausted agreement and waves at everyone to follow her. She skids to a stop near the rift, and points at Hawke and Alistair.

“You two,” she snaps. “Out.”

Hawke shakes her head, greatsword still clutched in her shaking hands. “You’re the Inquisitor. You should go first.”

Alistair is bouncing on the balls of his feet, boots squishing with Fade water, and he actually glares at the taller woman.

Cadash snaps her fingers. “I  _ am _ the Inquisitor, and I say  _ get the fuck out of here.  _ Go!” She claps her hands together again, and Alistair doesn’t have to be told a third time. He grabs Hawke’s arm and physically pulls her along behind him as he starts to run.

He glances over his shoulder to see Cadash passing blue vials to the three mages--lyrium, he realizes, massive doses that would likely kill them if they weren’t so close to exhaustion already--and tightens his hold on Hawke when she starts to pull away.

The warriors hesitate just beside the rift, fighting its inexorable pull, and watch as the mages each down their doses and hold their staves together. A spell begins to form between the three points, growing brighter and brighter until the larger Nightmare demon sees it and descends on them, its demonic fingers stretching out to gather them all together.

Hawke starts to run back, but before she can take more than three steps, the spell is finished. It flies from the mages, blinding Alistair, and he covers his eyes with his arm. He staggers back, dropping his sword uselessly to the ground, and something slams into him just before the scent of charred flesh reaches his nose, and everything goes white.

\---

“How long have they been gone?”

Cullen turns to glare at Kate, eyes finding her immediately even in the chaos of the courtyard. She’s the only person he can see who’s clean--dusty and windswept, sure, but she isn’t injured and she isn’t covered in blood--and she walks up to him as bold as anything and tries to touch his arm in comfort.

He leans away and ignores the look of disappointment that flits across her face. She tucks her hands under her cloak and turns to face the rift with everyone else. No demons spill from it, even with everyone standing so close, and it might be beautiful if it didn’t make the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

Cullen clears his throat, finally, to answer her question. “It has been… hours. Half the night.”

Kate nods and rubs at the empty spot in her chest with one hand, shuddering. Cullen glances down at that and tightens his hand on the pommel of his sword.

“You feel that too?”

Kate jumps at his words, flinching away in surprise, before turning to face him once more. “Yeah. Why is it like this?”

Cullen shrugs even as he clenches his jaw and turns away. He stares into the rift with the same intense focus he gives everything else in his life and waits a long moment before speaking. “So you know if they’re in danger. Once you’re fully bonded it’s… worse.”

She perks up at that but tries to hide her curiosity. “Worse?”

He nods. “You always know where they are. You know if they’re safe, or scared, or…” He cuts himself off, sighs, and tries again. “Kirkwall was not a safe place. Amelia was always in danger, but rarely frightened. When she fought against Meredith… The only other time she felt so scared and angry was when she was falling into the rift. And now… nothing.”

“She’s not dead,” Kate offers, immediately. “I told Cadash what they would face. They have a plan.”

“I…” Cullen hesitates again, and turns to actually look at her. “Thank you.” He tries to smile, but it’s pained, and Kate has to look away before the tears that have been threatening her begin to fall.

Silence falls between them. It’s eerily quiet in the fortress, with all of the injured soldiers and Wardens being treated somewhere else, and the remaining scouts waiting without understanding why.

Kate works up the courage to ask, knowing this may well be her only chance. “What happened between you and Hawke? I thought she hates you.”

Cullen’s grimace makes her wish she hadn’t added that second thought, and she starts to apologize before he begins to answer her question. “I took Bethany into the Circle. Her sister. She…  was angry, then. She should have been. I was not kind.”

“Oh, Bethany.” Kate says the mage’s name on a sigh, and Cullen looks back down at her. “Hawke hated you for that.”

“Yes. I was angry, too, that Amelia was hiding an apostate in her home, even knowing how things were in Kirkwall. But that was  _ why  _ she was hiding Bethany. She wanted to keep her safe, and I put her in more danger than she ever was in Lowtown.” He hangs his head and wipes at his face with one gloved hand.

Kate reaches out for him again, and this time he lets her put her hand on his arm. She squeezes gently, aching to soothe him, and asks, “Where is she now?”

Cullen shakes his head. “I do not know. I--look!”

He jumps to attention as the rift springs to life. He shoves Kate back, away from danger, and she stumbles away before she remembers what happens next. Tendrils of light reach from the rift into the courtyard, and she shivers as the noise of the rift crackling fills the empty silence.

Cadash stumbles through first, immediately righting herself and stepping away. She’s gasping for breath, covered in blood, and a shout announces her presence to the rest of the Keep as Sera finally sees her.

Bull appears around a corner, holding Sera back by the collar, and they wait a proper distance away as the rift crackles again.

The mages come through as one, stepping together with their hands still clasping each other from their spell. Dorian’s hand remains in the rift for another moment before two warriors stumble out behind him. He pulls Hawke, and Hawke pulls Alistair, and they all turn to leave Cadash alone to close the rift.

Cullen sags suddenly, leaning hard against Kate as he grips her shoulder. She tries to hold him up even as she’s filled with such an overwhelming feeling of  _ relief  _ that she can’t help the sob that’s ripped from her throat.

Cullen recovers quickly, standing at attention once more, and Kate leaves him there to run around the back of the crowd until she sees Alistair. She jumps for him, heedless of the blood covering his armor, and buries her face in his neck. He wraps his arms around her waist and they sink to the ground together, ignoring Cadash’s speech.

When they finally catch their breath, Kate peels herself off of him and wipes at her face with the sleeves of her dress. Alistair has never looked more handsome than he is right now, even covered in blood, and she presses her lips to his in a searing kiss that makes him gasp against her.

They break apart after a moment and Alistair rests his forehead against hers. They just sit there together, unwilling to part, as other reunions happen around him. Sera jumps on Cadash immediately, babbling her relief, and Dorian kisses Iron Bull in full view of the entire Inquisition and the Wardens, completely unconcerned when Bull lifts him and carries him away.

“Kate,” Alistair whispers. “Look.”

They both turn in time to see Hawke finish speaking with Cadash. Though she was standing with the Inquisitor, her gaze was burning a hole in the back of Cullen’s armor, and as soon as she can she’s crossing the courtyard with long strides.

Cullen turns just in time, and his mouth drops open in surprise before Hawke grabs for him, hands sinking into his curls, and pulls his face down the scant inches to hers.

Kate’s little gasp is drowned out by the immediate hooting of the remaining soldiers. Even--or possibly especially--Sera and Cadash join in on the noise, and for a moment Kate’s afraid Cullen will be too embarrassed to return Hawke’s sudden affections.

She shouldn’t have been.

Before Hawke can pull away, Cullen’s arms are around her waist and he’s crowding into her, dipping her backwards and forcing her to clutch him tighter. He returns her kiss with an enthusiasm that makes  _ Kate  _ blush even as she sees the tips of Cullen’s ears starting to turn red.

When they finally part, Hawke leans in to whisper something to Cullen before backing away. He sucks in a deep breath before nodding, and Hawke offers him a little smile before turning away. She ignores everyone and approaches Alistair and Kate, who stand to greet her, and she leans down to engulf Kate in a hug.

“Thank you,” she whispers, then releases Kate who immediately backs up until she bumps into Alistair’s chest. Alistair wraps his arms around her and holds her still, a large grin still on his face, and echoes her thanks.

Cadash elbows her way into their little circle, making room for herself and for Sera, who’s still hanging on her neck. “Alistair, I need you to go with the Wardens back to Weisshaupt. Make sure they arrive safely, explain to your leaders what happened. You’re the senior member here, right?”

Alistair freezes, arms tightening around Kate’s waist, but she just smiles.

“I’ve never been to Weisshaupt,” she offers, voice bright.

Everyone turns to look at her, varying levels of concern on their faces. “Only Wardens are--” Alistair starts, but she cuts him off.

“I brought everything I own to the ass-end of Thedas to be with you,” she says, her voice sharpening slightly. “They can just try to stop me.”

Cadash laughs. “They wouldn’t dare.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, I was joking on tumblr and said something about [Alistair being afraid of birds](http://ma-sulevin.tumblr.com/post/153320123431/ma-sulevin-inquisitionsnewdawn-ive-been) because they can swoop down on your head (and swooping is bad, you see).
> 
> And I forgot about it until I was trying to write him facing fearlings and was like "wtf is he afraid of."
> 
> Answer: ostriches.


	12. The beauty of this mess is that it brings me close to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Motherfcking WEISSHAUPT.

It takes longer to get to Weisshaupt than Kate expected. Maps online and in the encyclopedias didn’t properly convey the vast emptiness of the Anderfels. It’s so big and the towns are few and far between and the Wardens don’t seem to be in a particular hurry to make it to Weisshaupt.

Not that Kate can blame them, exactly. Even she has no idea what the First Warden will think about what happened at Adamant or how he’ll react to everything. She doesn’t even remember his _name,_ and her knowledge of what happened at Weisshaupt over the last year is sketchy at best.

And, worse, she has no idea what to expect from the future. _All communication ceases,_ but why? Do they abandon Weisshaupt? Are they cut off somehow, fighting an enemy either within their ranks or from the outside of the fortress?

The questions make her stomach twist and turn, her heart stutter in her chest, but whenever she begins to work herself up too badly, Alistair sees it and comes to distract her. He tells her stories from the Blight, things she didn’t see in the game. He tells her things about Tabris, about what Leliana was like, about Shale and Oghren and Wynne.

The other Wardens seem to enjoy these stories too. Many of them haven’t been Wardens for very long--some of them joined up after the Blight because they wanted to keep what happened to their homes from happening ever again. Some of them even had stories about how the Hero of Ferelden saved them from this or that, and they talk about her with stars in their eyes.

Sometimes Kate tells stories too. She tries to explain the things from her world that she misses--everything from clean, hot water on demand to television to the internet--and every time she’s willing to talk about her old life, she faces a barrage of questions that she doesn’t know how to answer. How _does_ electricity work? How can a small machine keep a whole house cold or warm year round? She never knew, and now she can’t explain it. She suspects the Wardens don’t believe all of her stories, especially when she starts complaining about how they’d already be in Weisshaupt if they had _cars,_ but she can only do so much.

In the evenings, when the overwhelming heat of the desert disappears and freezing cold comes in its place, Kate wraps herself up in as many blankets as she can and sits by the fire until her drooping eyes make it impossible to stay sitting up any longer. Then, and only then, will she disappear into the tent she and Alistair have taken to sharing.

There, they talk about more personal things. Their families, their childhoods, their dreams for the future. Kate answers all of his questions about his past and his family as well as she can, as honestly as she can without breaking any promises, and almost every night they fall asleep still talking, their hands clasped together between them.

On the nights they don’t fall asleep talking, Alistair reaches into the cocoon of blankets around Kate and pulls her against him. They get used to each other slowly, exploring, savoring, learning together. Kisses become heated, hands roam, desires are whispered in low voices until they’re realized.

It’s beautiful, and it makes her wonder why she was afraid of this in the first place.

\---

In the end, they tell the Warden-Chamberlain that she’s a recruit after Adamant. The older man looks very, very suspicious at the news, but he won’t turn away new recruits at this point, even ones who come on the heel of battle within their ranks. He barely blinks when Alistair kisses her softly before sending her away so he can speak with the Chamberlain alone.

She takes their things and makes herself at home in the room one of the other Warden-Recruits leads her to. She tries to introduce herself, to find out _which_ recruit she is, but she disappears without really stopping to talk. She is elven, though, Kate can tell that much from the points of her ears peeking out from her thick hair. If she’s a mage, too--and Kate’s never been able to tell that just by talking to someone--she may be the Valya Kate’s been waiting to meet.

She disappears before Kate can find out though, running off to who knows where, leaving Kate alone.

Kate only waits long enough to take a bath and change before she slips out of the room to explore.

Weisshaupt is _big._ It’s bigger than she’d imagined, bigger than it was described, and she briefly worries that she’ll never be able to find her way back before dismissing it. Alistair would find her before he let her be lost in the fortress all night.

More importantly, it seems very empty. She’s seen fewer Wardens since arriving than she had traveling from Adamant, and that makes her chest constrict. She chews on her lip to distract herself and continues exploring, mapping out the floors and rooms in her mind.

Her stomach is just reminding her that it’s been _weeks_ since she’s had a proper meal when she hears a teeny, squeaky meow from down the hall. She freezes, straining her eyes to see in the darkness, and grins when she sees a little ginger cat sitting and staring at her.

“Oh, you’re precious, aren’t you,” she says, and she squats down to offer it her hand. “C’mere gorgeous.” The cat studies her for a moment, yellow eyes unblinking, before it turns and stalks off down the corridor with its tail high in the air.

Kate follows it at a respectful distance. The cat never speeds up, slows down, or looks over its shoulder to see if she’s still following. It just walks, and Kate just follows, and after a few minutes Kate’s rewarded with the sight of a large, open room with impossibly high ceilings.

It’s filled with books, and her heart immediately soars. There will be research in here that Dagna will be able to use to finish her research, and if there’s one thing Kate’s good at, it’s _research._

She rolls up her sleeves, literally because her only clean tunic is the one she stole from Cadash, and immediately begins browsing the shelves. She’s made it halfway across the one closest to the door with the ginger cat’s meow interrupts her thoughts and she turns around to look for it.

It’s sitting at the feet of a mage in Warden robes, and Kate’s heart stops beating when she sees who it is.

“ _Anders,_ ” she gasps, taking an involuntary step back until she knocks into the shelf.

Anders grimaces at her reaction. A beard covers his face, more gray than blond, and grey streaks flow from his temples into the ponytail he still keeps his hair in. He wraps his fingers around themselves in a show of anxiety for just a moment before he squares his shoulders, drops his hands to his sides, and forces a smile onto his face.

“Oh, I didn’t know we’d met!” he says, the joviality almost sounding real, almost like he sounded in Amaranthine. Kate grins a little at him and takes a step closer. She holds out her hand for him to shake, and he does so before leaning down to scoop up the cat.

“I’m Kate,” she says. “I just arrived with the Wardens out of Adamant.”

Anders hesitates for a moment. “You’re not a Warden, though,” he says, and she shakes her head.

“No, but I still arrived with them. I feel like I should explain some things to you, but really…” she hesitates, considering, then shrugs. “I just know things. We haven’t met, but I know your story and I’m here to help.”

“Help how?”

“With the taint,” she says, as though that should be obvious. “I’ve been working with the arcanist with the Inquisition and she has some really great ideas, but I want to do research here too. I want to find a cure.”

Anders shakes his head. “If there was a cure, we’d know it by now.”

Kate grins. “Like I said. I know things. Like… how is Justice?”

It’s a bit of a gamble, all alone with him. Justice could make himself known very easily and take care of her if he thought she was threatening, but… nothing happens except for Anders going pale and shaking his head.

“Gone. Since Kirkwall.”

Kate reaches out to pat Anders on the arm. What she really wants to do is wrap the man in a hug and pat his head and tell him _everything’s okay_ and _you’re loved,_ but it wouldn’t be appropriate and would probably make him avoid her, and that's the last thing she wants.

So she just smiles and says, “Come have dinner with me and we can talk. Okay?” Anders hesitates again, like he might turn her down and stay hidden in the library with his cat, so she adds, “I’ve been here for like two hours and I don’t know how to get back.”

He laughs, finally, a creaking sound like he hasn’t laughed in a while. “Fine,” he says, and shifts the cat so it can rest against his shoulder. The motion exposes his wrist to her, and she can see a very fade soulmark that just says _Karl._

She ignores the tears that prick her eyes to follow him.

\---

There are letters from Dagna waiting for her after dinner, but Alistair takes them from her and puts them on the little table in their room before she can read them.

“You need to _sleep_ ,” is all he says when she starts to protest, and she can’t really argue with that. She lets him lead her to bed and cuddle up behind her. He tucks his face into the crook of her neck and she giggles when his breath tickles her.

As always, he presses a kiss to his name on her shoulder before he drifts off to sleep.

\---

It turns out that the elf who led Kate to their room _was_ Valya, but Kate doesn’t find out about it until the elf has been gone for a week and returns with a proud look on her face. She--and each of her companions--are struggling to carry back baby griffons, all awkward feathers and scrawny wings and funny beaks, and Alistair nearly chokes on his glee when one totters over to him and tries to fly into his arms.

“Oh look at that,” Kate coos, holding out a tentative hand to let the griffon sniff her fingers. It gives her a calculating look before allowing her to pet it, and she grins.

“You don’t seem surprised?” Alistair asks, barely tearing his eyes away from his new companion to look up at her.

She shrugs. “I think this is the last thing I won’t be surprised by for a while,” she says, and he lets out a relieved laugh.

“I think I’m glad for that,” he says, and bends down to kiss the griffon on the top of its head.

\---

The Cure isn’t found immediately. It takes months of research and of lengthy letters written back and forth before Dagna comes up with something promising enough to try. Corypheus has been defeated for weeks and Kate’s starting to feel claustrophobic even in Weisshaupt large, almost endless halls.

But they can’t leave until the First Warden says. Or until Alistair isn’t a Warden anymore.

Anders helps her work with Dagna, deciphering the dwarf’s ramblings with more ease than Kate expected. He’s anxious to be free of the Warden’s chain too, though not as much as Alistair.

Even after the fall of the Nightmare demon and Corypheus, Alistair still wakes with nightmares and occasionally hums a nameless tune. He never speaks of it, but Kate can feel his nervousness, his desire for the Cure to be ready sooner rather than later.

When they finally find something that works on the little samples of blood Kate collects, Anders volunteers to go first. It’s his experiments, after all, and he downs the thick potion without even a moment’s hesitation.

It doesn’t do anything so dramatic as make him crumple to the floor, though he does shudder and gag enough to make Kate squeak in horror and hide behind Alistair. After a few deep breaths, Anders seems fine, and he shrugs.

“Maybe it didn’t work?” Alistair suggests, but Anders begins to pale before the words have finished leaving his lips.

Alistair catches him as he stumbles, lowering him to the floor. Kate sinks down next to them and places a tender hand on Anders’ shoulder as he gasps for breath. He tilts his head back to rest against the stone wall behind him, chest heaving, and Kate meets Alistair’s eyes as Anders shudders between them.

His labored breathing stalls for a long moment, and Kate’s panicked cry is drowned out by the one Alistair lets out as he moves Anders to lay on his back. Kate fumbles for the mage’s pulse, leans her head down to listen to his heart, begging for the rise and fall of his chest, and promptly bursts into tears when Anders sucks in a watery, rasping breath.

And then another. And another.

She leans away from him and wipes her eyes on her sleeves as the color returns to his cheeks. A few more breaths, each one less ragged, and he’s opening his eyes again to stare at the pair of concerned faces looking back down at him.

They blink at each other, and he laughs.

“I can’t feel you,” he says, the pure delight in his eyes overcoming any need he might feel to make a joke at his words. “I can’t sense you at all.”

He sits up, and they lean back to give him room. Kate’s already glowing, hands trembling with excitement. “Is it gone?” she asks. “Are you cured?”

Anders can’t stop laughing, and he pulls her into a tight hug. He pulls Alistair in at the last moment too, holding both of them for a long moment before letting them go. They stand together, slowly, Alistair supporting the mage until he’s sure Anders can support himself.

“I… I am, I think. I don’t know about the lasting effects, but you can test my blood again to be sure.”

Kate nods, still grinning, and carefully pricks his finger to draw enough blood for the test Dagna came up with. It reacts with tainted blood, and Kate and Dagna are the only ones willing to be brave enough in the face of blood magic accusations to try it.

When the test comes back clean, Anders cries unashamedly into his hands as Kate presents Alistair’s dose to her Warden.

Alistair tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her face to his for a long moment, kissing her softly in what could be either a goodbye or a request for good luck, before pulling away from her to drink the potion in one deep swallow.

\---

When Alistair wakes again, he’s in their room on their bed. Kate has a book open, but it’s resting on her chest as her head lolls back against the headboard. Her mouth is open as she sleeps, jaw slack, and Alistair smiles at the sight before he realizes he doesn’t remember getting into bed with her.

He reaches up and grabs for her hand. She springs awake immediately, dropping her book to the floor in her haste. She’s crying before he can ask what happened, burying her face in his neck to hide her sobs. He wraps his arms around her, holding her tight even as confusion washes over him, and then…

“Oh,” he breathes. The Calling. He can’t hear it, the sweet song always playing at the back of his mind. It was so much louder before Adamant, but it lingered still, reminding him that his time with Kate would be cut short within the next year.

And now.

“It’s quiet,” he says, and Kate sits up just enough to look at him, studying him for a long moment.

They shift, moving together until they both lay on their sides to face each other. Kate’s eyes are still wet, and he reaches up to brush the tears from her cheeks. She smiles and presses into his hand, kissing the flesh at the base of his thumb.

“You saved me,” he says, and she starts to cry again. She tucks herself against his chest and wraps her arms around him, shaking as her sniffles become sobs. “You saved me,” he repeats, but it doesn’t make her stop crying.

He holds her until she relaxes, sobs dwindling into little hiccups for breath, then pushes her away so he can kiss her forehead.

“I was so worried about you,” she says, and then her lips are on his for too brief a time. “You were out for so much longer than Anders.”

“It was closer to the end for me,” Alistair explains, and Kate nods sadly.

She reaches up and traces at the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, as much from worry as from laughter, then the furrow between his brows. “My brave Warden,” she murmurs. “I’m so lucky.”

Alistair laughs, a light, airy thing that has Kate smiling back at him. “I believe I’m the lucky one,” he corrects. “You saved me. Now what will we do?”

She considers. “We should go back to Skyhold to take everything to Dagna. I don’t… I don’t trust the Wardens with this.”

Alistair nods, agreeing without hesitation. “And then what?”

Her smile grows. “And then… we start our lives. Together.”

Alistair sighs, a happy sound of contentment as his heart swells. “Together, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, if you're looking for an honest-to-Andraste GOOD mgit story, I recommend checking out one of the following:
> 
> [Keep to the Stars](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4651176/chapters/10609854) by MaryDragon, complete.  
> [A Whole New World](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7052848/chapters/16034713) by RogueLioness (check the tags before you read).  
> [Dislocated Souls](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7147562) by LonelyAgain.  
> [Neither Angels, Nor Demons, Nor Powers](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3858271) by long_LIV_prairies.  
> [How to win wars and influence nobles](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10304186) by kaoruyogi.
> 
> All of them are a thousand times better than this nonsense, have actual plot lines, and authors who planned things out before they started.
> 
> If you think this is fun, come follow me on [tumblr](http://ma-sulevin.tumblr.com/), where there's 1000% more ridiculousness.


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